No Need for Ribbons or Bows
by Keesha
Summary: A holiday story with a little of everything; drama, humor and of course the message of peace on earth goodwill to men... Ok, not really but Callen does give Sam a great gift.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I couldn't resist penning a quick holiday story. It has humor, action, suspense, drama, witty dialogue (Ok, that is only my opinion) and a seasonal message. I freely admit it is not my best writing, but take it for what it is; a little holiday fun. This is the first of nine chapters (if I were brilliant, which I am not, I would made it twelve). Excuse the thinly veiled holiday references sprinkled throughout the story like nonpareils on a sugar cookie. I may not post every day; I am still doing the dreaded proof reading (yuck), but I promise to finish before Santa comes down the chimney (EST or is it EDT). _

_As usual, own nothing and no infringement intended. _

_As it is the holiday season, please consider leaving a few reviews; tis the season for giving and reviews are presents to wanna-be-writers._

For the 100th time in the space of 15 minutes, Callen glared at the holly-green, curly-toed shoes encasing his size ten feet.

"Stop glaring at your feet G. You're scaring the kids and freaking the Moms," Sam admonished his obviously unhappy partner.

Like a petulant child, Callen used his festive footwear to lay a kick on a nearby red and white striped, plastic, candy cane.

"Wouldn't scruff Hetty's wardrobe if I were you," Sam firmly suggested as he watched his partner take aim at another innocent candy cane.

Callen's scowl deepened, something, quite frankly, Sam didn't think was possible. "Why do you get to be Santa and I have to be a ridiculously dressed dwarf?"

Sam couldn't halt a little smile from creeping across his handsome face. "Elf," Sam corrected. "And the answer is because this is a politically correct mall and they have Santa's of all types. Besides, I have a great smile and I can relate to the kids better." Sam paused for a beat then added, "Or maybe it's because Hetty likes me better than you."

Callen couldn't deny Sam's statement, at least not the part about relating to kids. Sam had been very kind and patient with every child that came to tell Santa their Christmas wish, during the first two hours of this assignment. Sam had smiled, 'Ho-Ho-Ho-ed' and always managed to get even the shyest child to relax and whisper their secret dreams into Santa's waiting ear. Callen had to admit if he was Sam's spot, he would have been sorely tempted to pull his gun on the kids to get them to talk.

This whole assignment sucked and it wasn't just the ludicrous elf costume Hetty had forced him to wear with its' jingle-bell hat, short, bright red and yellow tunic, green curly shoes and red and green striped tights. Tights of all things. No grown man should ever wear tights in public, unless they were a super-hero like Batman or maybe Robin.

However, it was for national safety, or at least that was how Hetty presented the case to them. The mall was having a special event exclusively for servicemen and their families, as a way to thank the selfless men and women who served their nation. The mall had closed for a few hours, cleared everyone out, and then set up food, games and other free events. When all the prep was done, it had reopened its doors to all current and former military personnel and their loved ones. This special holiday event, on 22 December, had been well publicized and the turnout had been incredible.

The only thing marring this wonderful gesture had been credible intelligence that suggested a terrorist group was targeting the celebration. NCIS, along with other agencies, had been alerted and asked to provide covert, discreet coverage to protect the service-personnel. Of course, Hetty had interpreted that to mean costumes and she gleefully dug in her extensive wardrobe for the perfect ones for the team to don.

Over the comm link, Deeks' voice weighed in on Callen's costume. "I think you are pulling off those tights pretty well, Callen. I know I have been hearing some complimentary things from the Mom's in the line. Though, you may want to be careful about that. After all, their spouses are probably weapons trained."

Kensi, who was dressed as a fairy snow princess thought she saw Callen blush a bit, though his tone of voice, when he answered Deeks, was as cold and as hard ice. "Santa's gonna be down one reindeer on his team this year and his elves are gonna have a barbecue featuring version," Callen threatened Deeks.

Deeks, who Hetty had comically dressed as a reindeer, looked a little worried as Callen started to reach behind his back. "Ah, that's messed up Callen," he nervously replied.

Santa Sam chuckled from his throne. "Don't worry Deeks. Those tights are so snug, it may take G five minutes to draw his weapon. Plenty of time for you to run." Sam cocked his head to the side a bit, looking thoughtful at Callen. "Assuming you do have your gun on a belt holster, ya know you're going to have to lift that pretty dress of yours awfully high to get to draw it, G."

"It's a tunic, not a dress," Callen growled at his mirthful partner. "And for the record, I am wearing an ankle holster today."

"Well, I don't know what you boys are complaining about," Kensi grumbled joining the fray. "At least you aren't wearing heels, wings and 700 feet of crinkly cellophane. Every time I move, the noise drives me crazy."

"Yea," Sam said drily. "We're all enjoying your noisy outfit over the comm link."

Not one to be left out in the cold, Deeks added the complaint's department. "Yea, well this reindeer costume itches. I think it is made out of wool."

"Wool is from a sheep. You are a reindeer. Guess you are allergic to reindeer fur Deeks," Kensi gleefully pointed out.

Deeks gave a mighty scratch, while frowning at Kensi, over the fake snow and giant presents that made up the decor of Santa's Winter Wonderland which was located in the center court of the two story mall. "Well you better hope you don't have to chase anyone in those leftover 70s disco platform shoes. You'll break your leg."

Kensi gave a worried look at her feet, which were incased in silver, sequined, five-inch-high, platform shoes. To Deeks credit, he was right about the era they represented.

"Guess you could always take them off and throw them at the bad guy. Probably knock'em out cold," Deeks remarked cheekily.

"Shut up Deeks," Kensi angrily shot back. "And put your red nose on their Rudolph."

Ever the clown, Deeks unabashedly placed a bright red, round, bulbous nose on his face, then grabbed his tail and gave it a little seductive twirl. "Can I interest you in a little tail tonight, Kensilina?"

Three shocked voices simultaneously said 'Deeks' over the comm link; Kensi's tone was stunned, Sam's annoyed, and Callen's tone was harsh, though there was a little undercurrent of humor there too. However, the next voice that came into their ears was anything but amused.

"Mr. Deeks, please plan on spending a weekend in the office with me, taking a remedial course in appropriate behavior in the workplace. All weekend!" she finished with flair.

"Hetty!" Deeks whined. "It was a joke."

"And one in very poor taste. And Mr. Callen, if you don't wipe that smirk off your face, you'll be joining Mr. Deeks for this joyous event."

"I'm not smirking Hetty," Callen informed her, even though he was smirking.

"How does she do that?" Deeks said moving to stand next to Kensi. "She can't see him."

"Probably had Eric turn the security cameras to face us," Sam helpfully suggested.

"Mr. Hanna, your beard needs fluffing," the disembodied voice reprimanded and Callen's smirk grew wider as his partner frowned.

The manager in charge of Santa Land sashayed over to where the quad of agents was gathered around Santa's velvet and gold-gilded throne. He was dressed in a well-tailored, pin-striped, grey suit and carried an official looking clipboard. "You all ready?" he drawled in a southern accent so thick you could cut a pecan pie with it. "Breaks over. It's time to re-open Santa's Winter Wonderland again. Where the icy fun never ends."

Deeks leaned close to Kensi's ear. "He does know this is LA right? Once they step outside, the icy fun will turn into a puddle of water."

The manager primly turned to face Sam. "You did a pretty good job so far Santa, but you need to up your ho-ho-ho to child ratio. Every good girl and boy deserves a Ho-Ho-Ho. And also Santa, try to be a bit more jolly. Remember, as Mr. Moore told us, 'He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf..."

Callen interrupted the manager to lodge a protest. "If Santa is an elf, how come he gets to wear boots and not stupid pointy shoes?" Callen stomped his green, curly toed shoes on the floor, emphasizing his point.

The manager halted in his recitation to give Callen and incredulous glance. "Mr. Moore was speaking metaphorically, of course, when he referred to Santa as an elf. Everyone knows Mr. Claus was adopted by the elves not born to them. Elves wear curly toed shoes and Santa wears black, shiny boots and," he said turning back to face Santa Sam, "yours need a bit of a polish. I can't see myself in them."

Sam, Navy SEAL, who prided himself on his tip-top appearance, pleasantly suggested the manager bend over and take a closer look. Simultaneously, Sam received a warning in his ear piece from Hetty about a dire punishment, if he dared do what he was thinking. The manager, oblivious to the background conversation, pulled a tissue out of his pocket, bent over and buffed Sam's right boot. Kensi had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud, at the look on Sam's face. Callen, on the other hand, didn't even try to contain his mirth, laughing heartily and earning an 'I'll get even with you stare from Sam.

The manager finished his 'spit and polish' then turned and handed the dirty tissue to Deeks. "Be a good reindeer and put this in the trash, would you. Can't have litter in Santa's Winter Wonderland."

Deeks started to reply, but a swift stomp from the Fairy Snow Princess' footwear had him promptly closing his mouth, taking the tissue in his paw, and limping to the nearby trash receptacle.

The manager gave Sam another critical appraisal from head to toe. "Your beard needs fluffing."

"Hetty was right," Deeks whispered to Kensi as he rejoined the group.

"She always is," Kensi reminded him.

With his deep southern twang, the manager started reciting again.

"His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!"

"Sam does have merry dimples," Deeks interjected.

"And Sam's eyes will twinkle, right before he takes out his gun and shoots you for making fun of his dimple," Kensi suggested to her bedeviling partner.

"His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow!" the would-be southern thespian continued.

Deeks just couldn't keep quiet. "Even if it does need fluffing."

"The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath."

Deeks' scratched at his neck before quirking, "Have you ever smoked a pipe, Sam? I picture you as more of a cigar guy."

"I don't smoke Deeks, but you're going to if you don't shut up," Sam retaliated.

Ignoring the fact his audience was not appreciating his efforts, the manager plugged on with his rendition of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas'. "He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf..."

Callen gave his partner a sideways glance, a smirk definitely pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Hear that Santa. He said you're fat and old."

"And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!" the dapper manager concluded with a flourish. As he drew a breath to continue, Sam leaned forward, and in a pseudo-happy voice that often he used when talking to his daughter, he told the manager, "If you don't want those nice kiddies out there to see Santa deck the halls with you, you'd better stop reciting that poem." Sam gave the manager a huge smile and his dimple merrily stood out on his face.

Taking the non-subtle hint, the manager turned his attentions on Callen-the-Elf. "I don't think you are truly embracing your role. Perhaps you need some inspiration."

Now it was Sam's turn to razz his partner. "Yea G. You need to embrace your inner elf." Callen's gesture in Sam's direction was inappropriate and earned him a warning from Hetty.

"We do random surveys of parents after they conclude their visits to Santa's Winter Wonderland," the pencil thin man informed them.

Deeks chortled. "Do tell."

The manager gave Callen a sweeping glance that travelled from his sky blue eyes, past his slim hips, down his striped, tight clad legs and stopping at his green curly toed shoes. Callen felt violated by the time the man looked up again to address him.

"I certainly understand the comments about how well the costume fits you. However, there were also a fair number of complaints that Santa's favorite Elf was a bit, ah, intimating."

Callen gave him 'the look'; the one that had caused many a criminal to quake in their chairs on the far side of the interrogation table.

"Yes. Exactly like that," the manager confirmed with a hint of nervousness.

Sam's face got very serious though there was no doubt he was pleased with his pun. "Gee-elf. You're mugging the Mommies and terrifying the toddlers."

"I know where you live Sam," Callen growled, not amused.

The manager cleared his throat before once again barreling along, ignoring all outside interference. "As far as elves go, let's talk Hermey. I really wouldn't recommend him as your elf role model. Yes, he was very sincere, honest, caring and blond like you."

Callen wondered about the significance of the blond remark, and then decided he didn't really want to know.

"However," the Christmas professor continued, "overall Hermey was a pessimist. Not want we want in a jolly Christmas elf."

"Sounds just like you," Sam crooned.

"If he breaks into 'Holly Jolly Christmas' I'm out of here," Kensi muttered to no one in particular.

"Callen," Nell's helpful voice came over his ear piece. "Hermey was an elf in the classic holiday cartoon 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer'. Hermey, like Rudolph, felt he was a misfit because he wanted to be a dentist, not an elf."

Sam grinned at his bemused partner. "A dentist. They use needles ya know." That earned him another Callen-dagger stare.

Like a bumbling puppy, Eric's voice burst thru the comm link. "The holiday classic Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer was only anticipated to be shown twice and yet this year it celebrates its 50th anniversary. It was created by the famous partnership of Rankin Jr. and Bass. It used puppets and stop-motion animation to tell the delightful story of a young reindeer, who was a little different from his peers, trying to make his way in an intolerant world. It has gone on to become the longest-running, highest-rated, television special of all time. This year the postal service is paying tribute by releasing four stamps in its honor." As Eric concluded, he felt two sets of eyes in Ops pinned on him and he grinned sheepishly, "Ah, too much information?"

Nell, who was a huge Christmas fan, solemnly replied, "Maybe a tad."

"Now," the manager continued as he took off his glasses and gave them a quick polish on the blinding white, starched, handkerchief he pulled from his pants pocket. "Buddy, from Elf, might be a better role model to channel. One does have to admit, he was a bit goofy, but he truly embodied the spirit of Christmas in every action, word and gesture."

The helpful voice in his ear informed him 'Elf' was a 2003 movie starring Will Ferrell, about a man who grew up amongst the elves on the North Pole. One day, it dawned on him he was adopted, so he went to New York City to find his real father. The second Wonder Twin, once again, couldn't resist chiming in, adding what he knew to include something about spaghetti, maple syrup, and singing. Callen decided Eric sounded like an entry from iDMB; or maybe Wikipedia.

"Enough," Callen enunciated, though no one was sure if he was talking to Eric or the manager of the happiest place on Earth, or at least in the west-side mall.

The manager took the hint and shifted his focus to Kensi. "Now Fairy Snow

Princess, we have some issues with your movement. Fairy Snow Princesses are supposed to be graceful; glide like on ice."

"OMG. You should see her skate. She looks like a drunken walrus," Deeks interjected.

Kensi swiftly turned and gave Deeks, the red-nosed reindeer, a resounding smack with her sparkly, star-tipped wand. "I was warming up. I needed a little time to find my balance."

"There isn't enough time in the world, Princess. You were hanging on that rail like it was a chocolate bar at that time of the month," Deeks concluded which earned him another whack from Kensi and a disapproving sigh over the comm link from Hetty.

"It's these damn shoes," Kensi pointed out. "It's like trying to walk on stilts."

"Ah yes, the shoes. We had some comments on them too. They make you too tall," the manager stated factually. "The fathers of our precious little guest feel intimated by your height. Men don't like women to tower over them."

"Now who needs remedial training, Hetty," Deeks remarked.

Callen looked over at Deeks, pointing out, "He doesn't work for us Deeks."

"Good point." Deeks conceded.

"Anyway," the patient manager continued, "if you could try to be a bit shorter, that would be helpful."

"Shorter!" Kensi stuttered.

Deeks made his hand into a claw and swiped it thru the air. "Like crouching tiger," this earned him yet another smack from the fairy wand which was starting to look a bit bedraggled.

"Keep it up, Kensi," Sam egged her on. "Tenderize that meat for our BBQ."

"And speaking of reindeer," the manager inserted himself back into the conversation, "you need to prance more."

Callen ducked his head, snickering.

"I'm sorry. Apparently, there has been a miscommunication here. I'm not Prancer. Obviously, I am Dasher, because, well I am so dashing." Deeks struck a James Bond, sophisticated pose in his reindeer costume.

Kensi snorted in a most unladylike like manner, "More like Blunder."

Deeks made a wounded buffalo face. "Ouch. And by the way for those playing along, that is not one of the eight reindeer's names. I don't even think that name is anyone in the second-string stable."

A brisk clap drew their attention back to the business at hand. "We open in two. Everyone to their marks. Remember, Santa, more Ho-Ho-Hoing. Elf, smile. Fairy Snow Princess, think glide and short and reindeer, hoof it up. Now places everyone." He held up his left hand, five fingers extended and began to fold them down in sequence. "Five, four, three..." and on two and one he went silent, just bending his fingers. When all five were down he stage-whispered "You're on Santa."

Sam rolled his eyes but grudgingly gave a big Ho, Ho, Ho and the kids waiting patiently in line merrily cheered in response. The four agents couldn't help but to grin at each other, buoyed by the infectious Christmas spirit of the kids.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews. Now time to switch gears from humor to drama._

The next three hours were hectic with a line that never seemed to diminish. Callen swore this was more mentally and physically exhausting than chasing a suspect, two miles, in the heat of the day. He was constantly scanning the crowds, looking for anyone suspicious while trying to remember to smile, as he and Kensi took turns bringing the kids and their parents up to meet Santa Sam. Deeks was working the queue, dancing, prancing and generally keeping the parents and kids entertained. Callen had to admit, Deeks was made for this gig and complain as he might, Callen figured that reindeer suit had to smell better then Eddie the coat.

The whole team was grateful when the manager of Santa's Winter Wonderland showed up with his official clipboard and announced it was time for another break. He primly walked over and flipped the sign to the side which read 'Santa's on a cocoa break'.

"Be back in twenty," he announced to the team before disappearing back into the bowels of the mall.

"I need caffeine," Deeks wearily announced as he walked up to the group looking a little worse for wear. The kids waiting in line had peppered him with a ton of questions on what it was like to live at the North Pole, lectured on why it wasn't nice to make fun of Rudolph and pulled his tail.

Kensi unceremoniously ripped off her wings, which luckily were detachable, and added, "Count me in. Sam? Callen? Want us to bring you something?"

Sam and Callen both nodded and the reindeer and fairy princess sans wings and a red nose, headed towards the food court. Sam, who was tired of sitting, got up and stretched his muscular legs, strolling around the Winter Wonderland. Callen, on the other hand, was tired of standing and cautiously sunk down on top of one of the giant presents, which thankfully held his weight.

Sam glanced at his partner and couldn't help silently laughing. He'd once picked Callen up, after he was released from a month-long undercover prison sentence. The blond had looked better than he did at the moment, dejectedly sitting there in his elf costume, scowling at his shoes. Taking pity on his partner, Sam walked over to where G sat, reached into the inner pocket on his Santa suit and held out a peace offering. Callen's eyes actually lit up when he saw what Sam was holding.

"Kid gave it to me. Based on his response, when I asked him if he were naughty or nice, I'd say it was a bribe," Sam stated as he handed the tootsie-pop to Callen.

Callen quickly dispensed with the wrapper and stuck the sucker in his mouth, appearing a bit more content, though he still kept eyeing the crowd as Sam walked away again to stretch his legs. Five minutes into enjoying his repast, Callen's attention was diverted by a man who walked by wearing a long rain coat; something a bit unusual given the forecast didn't call for any precipition. Watching intently as the dark-haired man hurried by heading for the escalator, Callen studied the unnatural way the edge of the coat moved and he saw what he thought was the muzzle of a rifle poking out below the hem.

Rising swiftly and moving towards the suspect, he reluctantly pulled the half eaten lollipop out of his mouth and tossed it into the trash bucket as he passed by it. By now, the suspect had ascended the escalator and was on the second floor of the mall, walking towards the railing that overlooked Santa's Winter Wonderland.

Callen activated his comm link. "Possible shooter. Second floor. Heading towards the center court overlook."

Callen did a controlled sprint towards the up escalator, moving quickly, but trying not to attract the attention of the shooter. He didn't want the man to panic and start firing; if indeed that was a gun he was carrying. Callen padded across the fake snow that covered the rubber-matted floors of Santa Land. "Sam, clear everyone from around Santa Land. If he starts firing, they will be sitting ducks. Kensi, Deeks, head to second floor, near Brookstone. Head him off from that side. Eric, activate the fire alarm. Get this mall emptied. Nell, do you have eyes on him?"

"Looking Callen," Nell's slightly tense voice replied. Back in Ops, she and Eric anxiously scanned all the video feeds on the big screen.

As requested, the fire alarm went off in the mall and a mechanical voice asked everyone to calmly head for the nearest exit. Sam rounded up the parents and kids still waiting in line to see Santa and hustled them away from the open area where they could be potential targets for the gunman.

Deeks and Kensi were at the far side of the mall, in Starbuck's, purchasing coffee when they heard Callen's instructions. Deeks, who just had been handed his coffee when Callen called, ripped off the lid, took a quick swig, swore when he scalded the inside of his mouth, then took off after Kensi. By now, the fire alarm was blaring and Kensi and Deeks were moving against the huge flow of humanity trying to exit the mall. It was greatly hampering their forward progress.

Hetty, with her usual impeccable timing strolled into the Ops Center. "What do we have?" she queried Eric and Nell.

Without taking her eyes from the screen Nell tersely replied, "Callen spotted a potential shooter. Long rain coat...there!" she pointed to the fourth camera feed from the right. "We have him, Callen."

Callen cleared the snow and his green, curly toed shoes hit the slick tile of the mall floor. He skidded towards escalator, attempting to maintain his balance, dodge people and run up it. The curly toe of his holly green elf shoes got caught in the treads of the moving metal staircase and he went down hard on his left shin before he was able to get his foot out of the inane shoes. The cruel metal edges of the escalator treads sliced thru his skin like a hot knife going thru butter. The thin fabric of the tights offered no protection and a deep, jagged gash appeared on his left leg and began welling blood. Swearing under his breath, Callen ignored the pain as he scrambled back onto his feet and continued his way up the moving staircase.

When he cleared the top and stepped onto the second floor of the mall, he reached down, ripped the other elf slipper off his right foot, while simultaneously yanking his gun from his ankle holster.

Callen did a combination dash/skate across the tile floor in his socks, towards the shooter, who was now approaching the brass-topped, glass-panel railing that overlooked Santa's Winter Wonderland. The man's coat twitched and Callen was able to confirm the suspect was carrying a concealed weapon.

"Federal Agent," Callen yelled across the open space that separated them as he brought his weapon to bear on the gunman. However, Callen hadn't totally factored in the slipperiness of the floors, in relationship to his socks, since he no longer was wearing shoes, and he found he couldn't halt his forward motion. Unable to stop, his momentum carried him into the man in the rain coat at a good clip, and both men slammed into the clear glass rail and went down in a tangled heap on the mall floor.

The shooter was obviously a professional because he quickly regained his wits, managing to knock Callen's weapon out of his hand, sending it skittering across the mall floor. Next he flipped his long raincoat over his head and entangled Callen in it, before he started viciously pummeling the downed agent. However, in the process, the gunman's own weapon slid across the slick marble floor out of reach.

"Kensi, Deeks!" Eric's panicked call reached the other members of the team. "Hurry!"

Sam knew by Eric's tone of voice, that Callen was in trouble, but the big guy also knew he had to get these men, women and children to safety first. So, he continued to hustle the crowd along and prayed Callen was able to cope on his own.

With the raincoat covering his head and disorientating him, Callen had to push down his rising anxiety, before he took a few quick jabs at his assailant. One or two must have hit something useful, because he heard the man grunt and the pressure on Callen let up enough that the agent was able to fling the coat off his head.

The sight that met his eyes wasn't comforting. The raincoat had hid the man's physique which put Sam to shame. Callen knew he was in trouble on many fronts, as he attempted to clamber to his feet. His stupid socks nearly dumped him on the floor again, as they caused his feet to slide out from under him. He reached down to rip them off when the gunman slammed into him again, pushing him across the floor and into one of the gilded support columns.

Callen must have blacked out for a few seconds, because the next thing he knew he was being flung thru the glass-plate window of Crate and Barrel. He landed on a red sofa in the window's holiday display, scrambled over the back onto the floor.

The gargantuan man stepped thru the broken display window after Callen. Callen rolled onto his back and slammed his feet into the red sofa, causing the furniture to smash into the suspect's lower legs. While the man was off balance, Callen sprang back over the couch and using it as a trampoline, launched himself at the guy, knocking both of them back out the window into the mall, where they rolled across the floor, into glass panels that formed the second floor railing.

The man whammed his meaty hand into the side Callen's head, bouncing it off the glass. The next thing Callen felt was his body being lifted off the ground as he shook his head to fight back the rising black tide that threatened to engulf him. The man hefted Callen over his head, and then flung him over the edge of the glass railing towards Santa Land one story below.


	3. Chapter 3

Over Santa's Winter Wonderland, the mall had hung sparkly silver snowflakes at varying heights, on cables, from the ceiling. Some were high and others hung lower in the air space between the first and second stories of the mall. Callen felt his body falling uncontrollably thru the air and he desperately lunged, trying to snag one of the snowflakes. He missed the first one, but managed to latch on to a slightly lower one, halting his descent to the hard, marble floor below.

Kensi and Deeks arrived in time to see their team lead get thrown over the railing. The partners simultaneously aimed and fired at the suspect, dropping him to the floor with two bullets in his leg.

Deeks hurried forward to clear the gun, before checking on the downed gunman, while Kensi ran to the rail and screamed Callen's name.

Sam had finally cleared the last of the patrons when he heard Kensi yell Callen's name. He wasn't sure if he heard it over the comm link or in the air; however, there was one thing Sam was sure of, Callen was in serious trouble.

Charging back towards Santa Land, Sam spotted Kensi on the second floor of the mall and he followed her line of sight, spotting his partner precariously hanging on a shimmery snowflake.

"G!" he barked, coming to a halt underneath the decoration. His brain churned for a solution that didn't end in his partner becoming a red, holiday splat on the floor at his feet.

Callen, holding onto the glittering snowflake, knew he had only temporarily halted his stay of execution and he was far from being out of the woods. He scanned around him looking for a way out of this predicament. A creak and a groan told him what he already suspected; these decorations weren't secure enough to hold a grown man's weight. It was only a matter of time before the moorings came loose and his downward descent started again. While he was physically able to hang on the snowflake, he knew the cables would snap long before anyone could get some sort of ladder apparatus to get him down. He also knew it was too far to the first floor below, to let go and drop the rest of the way.

His eyes roamed the immediate area, coming to rest on Santa's Castle, which was twenty feet to his left. Inside of the faux-structure was a bouncy house that he'd watch kids have fun in all day.

Nervously, he swiped his tongue over his lower lip, as he debated the idea which had entered his mind. If he could get the snowflake swinging, he might get close enough to the castle to make a leap for the turret nearest him. The spire wouldn't hold his weight either, but if he hit it right it might topple onto the roof which should be strong enough to support his frame.

Glancing at the peaked roof on Santa's castle, he noted it was covered with large plastic peppermint discs. If this idea worked, it was not going to be a pleasant landing on the roof, but Callen still reckoned it would be a softer landing than the marble floor below. He didn't quite have a plan on how he would get from the roof to the floor yet, but one step at a time.

Taking deep breath to calm his nerves, Callen started swinging his feet to get the snowflake to sway. Kicking his feet back and forth, like kids do on a swing to build momentum, he was rewarded with some movement in the snowflake; it began to gently sway.

It only took Sam a few seconds to figure out his partner's plan; he wasn't happy with it. It way too risky, especially if the cable holding the snowflake broke at the wrong moment; Callen would plunge to the floor below.

Back in Ops, the trio watched on the big screen as Callen began his flying trapeze act. Hetty's hands were made into tight fists at her side, Eric had a death grip on the tablet he was holding and Nell's knuckles were as white as snow, as she held on to the back of her chair.

Kensi and Deeks had handed their suspect off to another agent and were observing Callen from the second floor overlook area. Watching Callen from above was no more comforting than watching from below or at Ops. Instinctively, Deeks moved closer to his partner as they stood at the rail. Kensi held her breath, her brown eyes full of concern for their team lead.

Callen felt a slight vibration in the cable holding the holiday snowflake aloft, and he knew his time was up; he had to jump now. On the arc that brought the decoration closet to Santa's castle, Callen pushed off the snowflake and with arms wide open, hurled his body towards the turret.

At the last second, he turned his head to the left so his cheek took the impact with the turret not his nose and forehead. The fake spire cracked under the impact of his body and snapped off as Callen had suspected. The good news was it broke away from him and he was able to ride it towards the candy covered roof.

A few seconds shy of the turret impacting the roof, Callen let go and did a free fall towards the peppermint, candy, laced roof. He hit hard, knocking the breath from his lungs, as he scrambled to grab at the fake candy, to secure a hold. He slipped and slithered a bit, but he finally secured his position on the castle roof.

To stabilize himself, he flung his uninjured, right leg over the peak of the roof to distribute his weight more evenly and to balance. His left leg was screaming in agony, as the hard plastic dug into his the already mangled shin. Biting hard on his lower lip, Callen forced back the blackness creeping at the edges of his mind again.

There was a collective exhale from the entire team, when Callen didn't tumble off the roof onto the unforgiving marble below. A few seconds passed, as Callen lay panting on the roof, Sam moved closer to Santa's Castle, Hetty, Nell and Eric relaxed their respective clenched fists and Deeks and Kensi remembered to breathe again.

Callen cautiously lifted his head to scan his surroundings for a way to get off this roof. He decided he was going to lay here until someone called the fire department to come with a very tall ladder to extract him. However, Santa's Castle had other ideas. The front wall of the structure started to slowly buckle and Callen knew London Bridge was about to fall down and all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't do a damn thing about it.


	4. Chapter 4

Callen was anticipating being pitched head first, towards the floor below. However, as the walls collapsed, he was surprised to find his body dropping straight downward. A quick flashback to the Miami skylight debacle blazed thru his mind; that had not ended well.

Unexpectedly, his battered back hit something forgiving and suddenly he found himself being launched upwards again. As his body arced high into the air, Callen remembered that Santa's Castle had been built over a bouncy house; basically he had fallen onto a trampoline. However, as he was travelling upwards, the disc-shaped, red and white striped, plastic, peppermint candies which covered the roof were breaking loose and were following the laws of gravity towards him. The meeting of his body and the sharp-edged plastic decorations was not a pleasant event.

As the candies rained on and around him, Callen heard a popping noise. The sharp-edged debris was acting like shrapnel, slicing into the bouncy house's floor and causing it to deflate. As he began his decent for the second time, he hoped there would still be enough air left in the mattress to break his fall.

A few seconds later, he hit the plastic floor of the bouncy house which **had** managed to retain a little air. It helped absorb some of the shock and he didn't hit the hard floor of the mall nearly as solidly as he would have without the deflating mattress.

The debris that was on either side of the new hole he made slid down on top of him. Most of the falling items were plastic-based, so they didn't do too much additional damage to his body. The worse pain, besides his head, which had previously been slammed into a glass wall, and his leg, which had been gnawed on by an escalator, was his left arm, which had landed awkwardly under him. As he lay there under the pile of junk, he moved his arm slightly just to confirm it wasn't broken or dislocated. Finally, he allowed himself the luxury of passing out, hoping his team mates would quickly start searching for him under this collapsed candy spectacular that was once Santa's Castle.

NCIS-LA - NCIS-LA

The trio stood in Ops and helplessly watching the screen as the castle broke apart. One minute Callen had been visible on the roof and next he was gone, buried under a pile of plastic Christmas cheer. Wordlessly, Nell's hand flew to cover her parted lips. Eric gasped and turned away from the screen. Hetty simply remained staring at the screen. "Oh dear," was the understatement she muttered. After a moment she added, "Mr. Beale, please call for a medical response team."

Eric, who now had something to do, was able to compose himself and turned to face his boss. "I called them earlier, as a precaution. They are two minutes out."

"Good work, Eric," she praised, her eyes never leaving the big screen. She silently prayed to whoever would listen to her after all these years that this story would have a happy ending.

NCIS-LA - NCIS-LA

Kensi, looking down from above cried out, "Callen!" Deeks instinctively moved his body closer to his partner and placed his warm hand over the top of hers, offering her a measure of comfort. She turned her sad brown eyes on him and he tried to give her an encouraging smile, something neither of them was really feeling. Then he tugged her towards the down escalator. Kensi broke out of her reverie and the two hurried towards the first floor where the decimated Wonderland lay, eerily silent.

Sam sharply inhaled as the Castle collapsed, then whispered with dread, "G!" Swiftly, he moved towards the area where he last saw his partner and started flinging broken pieces of Christmas-shaped plastic to one side, trying to ferret out his partner. "G? Can you hear me? G?"

Kensi and Deeks joined him and the pile of rubble, under which Callen was buried, slowly shifted. Every so often, one of the team would call out their senior's agent name. In his altered state, Callen thought he heard voices and he had a little internal debate on whether he should respond. Finally with effort, he forced his heavy eyelids open.

Sam pulled off a large piece of what once was Santa's roof and dazed blue eyes blinked up at him, tearing in the bright light. "G!" he said joyously. "Lay still. We'll have this cleared away in a second."

"Take your time," Callen mumbled. "On second thought, hurry. I am hungry. I lost my pop. Got another?" Sam gave his partner a tight smile, recognizing the joke for what it was; tension relief.

Soon they had the immediate area around Callen's body cleared out. "Just lay there until the EMT's get here," Sam instructed as he glanced over his right shoulder to see if he could spot the medics. However, when his turned his head back, Callen had already managed to prop himself up. "G!" he admonished, his voice clearly indicating he was annoyed at his partner's failure to obey orders…again.

"That is the third 'G' in the space of a minute," Callen exaggerated as he continued to try to sit up. "I only got one letter in my name. Don't wear it out."

"You shouldn't be moving until the EMTs check you out," Sam lectured his stubborn partner, who had achieved sitting and now was attempting to stand.

Callen maneuvered the foot of his good leg flat on the floor, along with his right hand and was attempting to push his body upwards. "A little help here, Sam," he grunted between clenched teeth.

Sam momentarily debated knocking his mule-headed partner back on his ass, then thought otherwise and with a resigned sigh, reached under Callen's left armpit and helped haul the smaller agent to his unsteady feet. As Sam was switching his grip to Callen's bicep, he noticed a slight tightening of the man's blue eyes which was quickly followed by G pulling his arm free from Sam's grasp. Sam instantly knew there was an issue with Callen's left arm. Callen shakily stood under his own power, with most of the weight resting on his right leg.

"Let me guess, you're good right?" Sam sarcastically asked his wobbly partner.

"I'm a little sore, as you might expect, but otherwise, yea, I'm good," he replied seriously. "You on the other hand are not good."

Sam took a step back and folded his muscular arms across his red, Santa clad chest. "And how do you figure that?"

"Because," Callen turned his right wrist, the one wearing his watch, towards Sam, "you are about to be late for your daughter's play; the one where she plays the lead female reindeer that is able to oversee a misfit's nonconformity."

The next word out of Sam's mouth was not a word that Santa should be saying and he gave a furtive look around to make sure no kids were in earshot. Damn. Callen was right. Tonight was his baby-girl's play and he would never be able to live it down if he wasn't there to witness it; he had promised.

Callen, reading his partner's mind said, "Go. We can finish up here," he gestured with his good right hand. Sam gave his partner a hard look and Callen put his mind reading skills to work again. "I promise I will let the EMTs look at me."

"Promise?" Sam shot back, knowing his partner's opinion of the medical profession.

Callen stared back at him, unblinking.

"If I find out you didn't get taken care of..." Sam started to threaten.

"Yea, yea, yea," Callen interrupted. "You'll come down on my ass like the ghost of Christmas future. Got it. Now go!"

Muttering under his breath, knowing full well his partner was snowing him, Sam hurried towards the exit. As he passed Deeks and Kensi he instructed, "Make sure he gets checked out by the EMTs." His tone brooked no agreement and Kensi nodded to show she heard.

A quick glance at his watch showed Sam, if he was lucky, would be able to change and meet his wife and daughter at the school in time. He left the mall and once in the car, he gave Michelle a quick call, told her he'd meet her at the school, and then turned the Challenger into the early evening traffic.

Silently, Callen stood watching Sam exit the mall and when the doors closed behind his partner, the blond gave a sigh of relief. He was happy to see Sam go for multiple reasons; family was important. The other reasons Sam wouldn't agree with but Callen had in intentions of telling him anyways.

Kensi and Deeks hurried over to their team lead's side and one look at Kensi's face told Callen all he needed to know; Sam had handed over his care and feeding to the two junior agents and they clearly weren't happy about it. Making a preemptive strike, Callen tersely commanded, "Need you to go to the hospital, question the shooter. See if he was working alone or if there is still a danger." Callen scowled as the duo stood there motionlessly, first looking at each other and then him.

"Ah, yea, but Callen, Sam said to..." Kensi tried to explain before her boss cut her off.

"Kensi. That is an order. Lives are at stake. Go."

Kensi and Deeks glanced at each other again, shrugged and decided to do what he directed. They really weren't sure who to be more scared of, Sam or Callen. "The EMTs are over there," Kensi helpfully told him pointing to her right. "Get checked out Callen."

Callen gave her a stare that was loud and clear… leave. The two easily interpreted the message, turned as one and hurried outside to Kensi's caddy.

"He might be right, you know, about an accomplice," Deeks commented as he closed the passenger side door. However, his tone suggested he didn't believe a word of what he had just uttered.

Kensi climbed behind the wheel. "Do you think Callen will let the EMTs check him out?" she questioned as she maneuvered the white SUV into rush-hour traffic.

Deeks snorted as he shook his head free of the antlers and patted down his disheveled hair. "Callen? No way. You're more likely to turn into the Sugar Plum Fairy than Callen see a Doctor."

Kensi had to agree with her partner. "Maybe we better avoid Sam for a while."

Deeks looked out the window replying, "Yeah, like for the next year or so


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

_Author__'__s Note: Sorry. Short chapter tonight. Had to do some holiday shopping and there is no internet in the car. And no I am not driving, though the signs say no texting and driving; they don't explicitly forbid writing fanfiction__…__lol__…__I guess that is implied. Thanks for the great reviews, responses and follows. Loving the early gifts._

Back at the mall, Callen gave a small sigh of relief having disposed of everyone that would make a fuss over him. He eyed the EMTs with distain, standing with their stretcher, twenty feet to his right. He had promised Sam he would let them see him, and he was a man of his word, sort of, so he limped over to where they stood.

The EMTs took one look at his battered frame and made him sit on the gurney while they took his vitals. Though he had mocked Sam for taking the class, Callen too had done a little late night studying on how to regulate his pulse and breathing and he put that skill to good use now. The EMT was clearly confused by the normal reading he was getting and started to recheck.

"Really, it was nothing," Callen interjected trying to reassure or more accurately con the man.

Shaking his head slightly, the EMT reached into his medical kit, drew out a penlight and catching Callen unaware, aimed it at his eyes. Callen reacted badly, pulling away from the light. "Did you lose consciousness?" the technician asked, as he flicked the light away.

"No," Callen boldly lied. Boy was Santa gonna put coal in his stocking.

Meanwhile, the second medic tag teamed him and before Callen knew it, the guy had scissors out and had cut a bigger hole in the bloody stocking on his left leg. The guy let out a low whistle. "Wow. You sliced it to the bone, I think."

Cursing under his breath for being caught off guard, Callen pulled a desperate measure, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his phone. He quickly held it to his ear, then a second later, slid off the gurney, taking most of the weight on his good right leg and hobbled a few feet away, while concentrating on the faux-conversation he was having on his phone.

"Got it. Right away!" Callen replied to the phone, his voice taking on a sharp edge with an underlying bit of panic. He spun back towards the medics, and in an urgent tone started giving them instructions. "That was the bomb squad. We have a tip that there is an explosive device in this building. We have to evacuate!" Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Callen began hurrying towards the nearest exit, assuming the EMTs would follow orders which they did.

Once outside, he disappeared to the right, away from the EMTs and towards the parking lot where he had left his car. Luckily, he had met Sam at the mall, so he had his own wheels. Otherwise he would have been forced to take a taxi or 'borrow' a car. While he had the skills to do it, he was sure Hetty would frown upon him using those particular talents in this situation.

Back in Ops, the trio continued to watch the scene unfold on the screen. First, they saw Sam leave, then Kensi and Deeks, and lastly Callen. "And then there were none," Eric quoted an old movie. "But I'm confused," the tech said turning towards Nell and Hetty. "I'm positive Callen's phone was damaged in the fall. It went offline like twenty minutes ago. So he couldn't have gotten a phone call."

Hetty turned away from the screen with a disappointed sigh. "Indeed You are correct, Mr. Beale. Mr. Callen was simply setting up the scenario for him to avoid medical treatment and go AWOL."

"Not that AWOL," Nell noted with interest. "His phone is broken so the GPS tracking isn't functioning, but he didn't disable the beacon in his car." Nell pulled a map up on the screen and it showed the icon for Callen's car, slowly winding its way thru the streets of LA.

"Huh," Hetty mumbled. She highly doubted Callen had forgotten his car was monitored. Maybe this was his way of apologizing. While he wouldn't seek medical treatment, he was agreeable to allow them to track his whereabouts, letting his team know he was still Ok. Only in Callen's mind would this seem like a fair trade, but it was all Hetty had so she took it. "Keep me posted," she said as she turned to leave Ops. "And if he goes anywhere near a hospital or emergency clinic, let me know and I'll break out the good scotch to celebrate," she concluded as she left the room with a wave of her wizened hand.


	6. Chapter 6

Callen's car was parked in the far corner of the mall. This turned out to be a good thing because he was still wearing what was left of his elf costume, though it was a lot worse for wear; no one would ever be donning it again. The only place it was going was the incinerator at work; after Hetty docked his salary for its cost.

Opening the trunk of his black Mercedes, he rummaged around, found his go-bag, unzipped it and examined the contents. After internally debating how best to carry out his next objective, he grabbed a pair of shorts, sweatpants, t-shirt, a zip-up hoodie, athletic socks and sneakers.

Slamming the trunk, he walked around to the far side of the car, using it as a shield between him and the mall. He opened the passenger side door and dumped all his clothes on the grey leather seat. Behind him was a wooded area separating the mall from the freeway. With the woods to his back and the car shielding him from the doors of the mall, he pulled the green tunic over his head, tossed it on the floor in the back of the car, and then slipped a dark grey t-shirt over his head. He started to shiver a bit, possibly from the weather, the blood loss, or shock; they were all good candidates given his current health state. Quickly, he shrugged the dark blue hoodie on and zipped it up.

Now that the upper half of his body was sufficiently clothed, it was time to tackle the lower regions. His elf shoes were long gone, but his lower body was still partially in-cased in the nauseating striped tights. The lower left leg of the tights was shredded from the escalator, matted with blood and stuck to the gash on his shin. Opening the glove compartment, he removed the knife he kept in there and flipped open the blade. Carefully placing his left foot on the edge of the car seat, he grit his teeth as he used the blade to cut the material, vertically, up the left leg of the tights. Once it was slit to the knee, he placed the knife on the floor of the car, then using both hands, peeled away the material that had adhered to the wound. The pain was momentarily excruciating and an involuntary groan escaped his lips. He stopped for a moment and forced himself to take deep, steady breaths so he wouldn't pass out. When the wave of pain leveled off, he stood, made sure his shorts were within easy reach and quickly shucked the tights and pulled on the running shorts.

Unfortunately, his gyrations broke open the light clot that had formed and the wound started bleeding again. Cursing under his breath, he grasped the knife and used it to rip off the right leg of the striped tights. Deftly, he wrapped the material around his calf to staunch the wound. He knew it would only last a little while, but it would buy the time he needed until he could find a better solution.

Reaching for his sweat pants, he dragged them over the shorts, then sitting sideways on the passenger seat, pulled on his socks and sneakers. Gingerly, he rose to his feet, shut the passenger door and limped around to the driver's side of the car. Getting in, he started the engine before pulling down the visor and looking at his face in the lighted vanity mirror. The right side of his face looked pretty good; the left side, not so much. He sported a cut over his cheek bone, along with abrasions and a rapidly forming bruise. Mentally, he made a note to check, the next time he sparred with Sam, if he was leaving his left side too exposed as it seemed he took more damage to the left than right in his mall fight.

Flipping the grey visor back against the roof, he glanced at the clock and decided he'd better hurry up if he wanted to make it on time. He drove out of the parking lot and hung a left. Twenty minutes later, he swung into an open parking space in front of a mini-mart. Getting out of his car, he entered the well-lit store, passing by the cashier who eyed him nervously.

"Got into a fight with the Christmas lights. Took a nose dive off the ladder," he grimaced gesturing towards his bruised face. "Bandages would be where?" Callen asked, leaving the question hanging.

"Aisle 6. Left hand side, half-way down," the clerk promptly replied.

"Thanks." Callen grabbed a blue, hand-held shopping basket from the stack by the door and headed down the aisles. When he got to the medical supplies, he grabbed a couple of packs of large gauze pads and some sticky wrapping-style tape. Next, he headed over to the aisle that had energy drinks, perused the labels and grabbed three that had the highest levels of caffeine. Finally, he walked towards the front of the store and chose the last thing he needed from the display near the register. The cashier, to his credit, kept a mostly straight face as he rang up and bagged Callen's purchases.

The injured agent limped back to his car, stowed the packages, got in, and headed for the highway.

NCIS LA - NCIS LA

In Ops, Eric switched the screen to satellite view to confirm his theory. "See, I told you," Eric smugly exclaimed to Nell.

Nell walked over to Eric's station and peered over his shoulder. "You are right," she cheerfully confirmed. "Do you want to tell Hetty or should I?"

Eric sat back in his chair giving the question some thought. "Is this a good thing or a bad. I'm not really clear on that point."

"Well," Nell said with a little of her eastern accent becoming evident, "I'm thinking it is a good thing. But I admit I am not sure."

With certainty, Eric stated, "Then you tell her. She likes you better than me."

"That's not true, Mr. Beale. I don't have favorites." The two techs spun around to find Hetty standing there in the middle of the room. "I admit, your inability to follow the dress code of the office, which I might add is quite permissive, does irk me at times." She shook her head slowly. "I never met anyone in all my days that had such an aversion to pants as you do."

Eric's head dropped down to look at his shorts, and then his eyes wandered farther south to his flip-flops, another sticking point with Hetty.

"I also," Hetty continued warming to her subject, "don't enjoy when you track sand into my building or lean your surfboard at a precarious angle near my Jag."

Eric had the good graces to appear contrite.

"However, each member of this team has their good points and shall we say areas where there is room for improvement. And speaking of such, where has our Mr. Callen wandered to?"

Eric grabbed his tablet, rose and walked towards the big screen. He poked at the device, and shortly a graphic popped up on the display which traced Callen's movements since he left the mall.

"Here's his route. After leaving the mall, he stopped for ten minutes here." Eric pulled up a shoot of the all-night mini-mart. "Based on video feeds from the area, it would appear he ditched the elf costume."

Hetty stared at the picture on the Ops screen. "I see."

Eric glanced over at Hetty whose face was clearly registering displeasure. "I'm sure Callen took good care of your outfit. Hetty." Eric paused a beat. "Well maybe not." He awkwardly cleared he throat before continuing. "Callen exited the mini-mart with one bag and a rather large come-shaped object. We weren't able to determine what he was holding, however, I could probably access the store's cameras..."

Hetty shook her head. "Thank you, but I don't think that will be necessary. And his current location?"

Nell picked up the narrative. "Oddly, he seems to have halted here." She brought a new picture up on the screen.

A small smile appeared on Hetty's face as she finally connected the dots on her wayward agent's actions. "Please let me know when he gets home." With that, she turned and left the room, leaving the two puzzled techies behind.

"Why would Callen go there?" Nell wondered out loud.

A few seconds later, Eric pulled something up on his tablet. "Because of this." Nell read the screen and smiled. Now she understood perfectly.


	7. Chapter 7

Callen found what he swore was the only free parking spot within a half mile radius of the building. He maneuvered the sports car into space, quickly exited the vehicle and limped as fast as possible towards the door. Ducking inside, he made his way down the hall, quietly opened one of the double doors, and slipped inside. Not wanting to attract undue attention, he stealthily leaned against the wall in a dark section in the back.

He had made it just in time as the curtain parted and Sam's daughter entered the stage dressed as 'Clarissa', the female reindeer who didn't mind Rudolph's nose.

The play was cute, though a little kumbaya-ish in spots. At the end, Callen applauded loudly as Miss Hanna pranced on stage to take her final bow. After that, the house lights swiftly came up and Callen's plans to sneak out unnoticed were thwarted. A few parents, who had started to leave even before the applauding had died down, beat him into the lobby and Callen had to pass thru them as they stood there waiting for their children. Keeping his limp to a bare minimum, he tried to nonchalantly head for the parking lot. However, out of the corner of his eye he saw he was attracting attention, so he ducked his head and quicken his pace. There were a few points, stares and whispered, but finally he cleared the lobby and headed into the night.

Back in the auditorium, Sam and Michelle gathered their belongings and headed out to the lobby to wait for their daughter to be released. It wasn't too long before the excited girl showed up, making a beeline for her parents like a heat seeking missile.

"Baby girl," Sam exclaimed and Kamran jumped into his out stretched arms. He lifted her sky high and gave her a kiss on the cheek before setting her back down on the well-worn, tile floor.

"I am so happy you made it Daddy. Mommy wasn't so sure, were you," the girl babbled.

Michelle gave an apologetic shrug as Sam said, "I wouldn't break a promise to my favorite reindeer," even though he knew it had happened in the past and would occur in the future; a hazard of the job.

The little girl wasn't fazed. "I did good didn't I? I am sooooooo happy Uncle Callen could see how good I was."

Sam and Michelle exchanged puzzled glances. "Uncle Callen wasn't here sweetie."

"Yes he was, Mommy. Standing in the back. He was here. He saw me. He applauded," Kamran patiently explained. "He promised me he would come and he did."

An odd look crossed Sam's face and Michelle knew exactly what it meant; for some reason, her husband was not pleased that Callen had made an appearance.

Sam quickly put a big smile on his face to cover his momentary lapse. "That's good honey."

"Too bad Uncle Callen left. He could have come out to our celebratory dinner with us," Kamran said tripping slightly over the word 'celebratory'.

"Oh, I think it is better he didn't stick around." Sam's tone of voice told Michelle that Sam was definitely irked at Callen. "You and Mommy head for the car. I am going to make a quick stop at the little boy's room and I will join you in a minute."

Michelle knew that wasn't really what Sam was going to do. She was sure he was going to make a phone call to his partner, and she was also very sure she and Kam shouldn't be around to hear what was going to transpire. Wisely, Michelle took her daughter by the hand and led her away giving Sam his privacy.

Drawing his phone out of his pocket, Sam dialed Callen only to receive a pre-recorded voice saying to leave a message. Next, he called Eric in Ops and was very surprised to hear who answered the phone.

"Hello, Mr. Hanna."

"You're not Eric," Sam blurted out.

"Indeed I am not. However, I am capable of answering a phone. Can I help you?" Hetty politely asked, though her tone indicated she thought he was a crayon short of a full box.

The last thing Sam really wanted to do was talk to Hetty about Callen, so he bunted. "I had quick question for Eric or Nell."

"I see. Well I am afraid they are not here. I sent them home. In fact I have stood down the entire team until 5 January, you included. You all have been working very hard and I think everyone needs to relax and re-energize to enter into the New Year."

"That's really nice of you Hetty." He really wanted to get off the phone with his boss and continue his search for Callen but he couldn't figure out how to end this conversation.

"Well, of course it was not just up to me. Director Vance and Assistant Director Granger also had to agree."

"I'm sure they did," he politely replied as he impatiently tapped his fingers against his left thigh. "Well, I have to..."

"I secured a ticket for Nell to fly home for Christmas. Her parents will be very pleased I suspect."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I am sure they will be. But..."

"And a special miniatures and model show is being held in Las Vegas. It is a sold out event but I called an old friend of mine from my days working in wardrobe and he managed to finagle two VIP tickets for Eric and his good friend Doug, along with accommodations in the MGM Grand where it is being held."

"Hope there is no dress code or Eric and his shorts might be in trouble," Sam quipped.

Hetty ignored Sam and rambled on. "Then I called another old acquaintance of mine who has a ski lodge in Vail and secured Ms. Blyth and Mr. Deeks a nice condo right on the slope. If they don't kill each other, they should have a wonderful time. Fresh powder."

Sam hoped she was referring to snow and not the fact Callen often said Sam smelled like baby powder. "I am sure there will be no blood shed and they will have a super time. That is very generous of you Hetty. You are always so good to us. Now I really have..."

"And for you Mr. Hanna..."

Sam cut her off at the pass. "Really, you don't need to do anything for me," other than let me off this phone he silently added.

"For you," she continued, starting to sound a little bit like a game show host handing out prizes, "go home and pack your bags. You and the family are flying to NYC for the holidays. Fernando, who works security at the Times Square Marriot, got a room for your family as well as passes to the reserved viewing section for the dropping of the ball on New Year's Eve. It will be quite spectacular, though I suggest you do dress warmly."

Sam was momentarily stunned by Hetty's generous gift. "That is too much. I can't accept that."

"Pish-tosh. You and your family deserve it. I heard your daughter is becoming quite the actress. Take her to see a Broadway show while you are in New York. I can get you seats to any show. I still have connections you know."

"Hetty," Sam said sincerely and moved beyond belief, "You are the most connected person I know." In the back of his mind, he wondered how Hetty knew about his daughter's play then quickly dismissed the thought. Hetty knew everything. "Still, I can't accept..."

She swiftly cut him off. "You can and you will. Please don't make me have to make it an order, Mr. Hanna. That would seem very unChristmasy."

"Thank you Hetty," Sam answered in his sugar-sweet voice. "The family will be delighted."

There was an awkward pause in the conversation that Hetty let hang for a minute before prompting, "I believe you had a question, Mr. Hanna? For Eric or Nell that perhaps I could help you with?"

Sam debated telling her never-mind, but then he reconsidered. She probably already knew Callen was not getting medical treatment like he promised so Sam decided not to try a cover up for his wayward partner. "I was trying to find Callen. He isn't answering his phone."

"Perhaps he is the hospital getting patched up and can't answer at the moment," Hetty reasonably suggested even though both parties in the conversation knew hell hadn't frozen over.

"Yea, we'll probably not." Sam sighed. "Do you know where he is Hetty?" Sam bluntly asked.

"Are you concerned about your partner for some reason?" she countered.

Sam checked the time and decided to get this over with fast. After all, he was supposed to be taking his family out for a congratulatory dinner. While he was one hundred percent sure Hetty knew exactly what happened in the mall, she was going to make him give her a full report anyway; probably as a punishment for not alerting her earlier that Callen had once again been injured. "Ok Hetty, it's like this. Callen tripped on the escalator and slashed open his shin." Sam left out the part that it was the stupid elf shoes that caused Callen to slip. He felt that might antagonize his boss. "He, ah, lost his shoes and had to fight an Arnold Schwarzenegger look-a-like in his socks." Well, tights actually but again Sam felt he could gloss over that fact. "Between the Jolly Green Giant and the slippery marble floors, Callen was a bit off his game and got roughed up a bit." Actually a lot but again Sam edited the re-telling of the story. "The terminator tossed Callen over the second floor railing but luckily Callen caught ahold of a snowflake that was suspended from the ceiling." That, all things considering, was a pretty amazing feat. "However, the cable holding the decoration broke and Callen fell on top of the candy-covered roof of Santa's Castle which, like the snowflake, was not designed to have a human on top of it." Even someone of Callen's physique. "Inside Santa's Castle was a bouncy house for kids so when the castle collapsed, Callen fell onto the giant air mattress." Then bounced, really high. "The house tumbled down on top of Callen and we had to dig him out. He was unconscious but quickly came around." Though Sam was sure Callen would deny ever having lost consciousness. "I told him to let the EMTs check him out, take him to the hospital if necessary and told Deeks and Kensi to watch him." Not that Sam ever really expected that was going to work. He knew his partner would easily bulldozer over the two junior team members. To be fair, they really didn't have a prayer. "So, I was calling Eric, to see if he knew where Callen was because I wanted to check on him, make sure he was OK." Or at least not unconscious in an alley somewhere. Sam had serious doubts his partner was ever truly Ok.

"That is quite a tale Mr. Hanna," and one I am already well aware of was the unspoken text. "After you left, and rightly so, to see your daughter's play, Mr. Callen did go to see the EMTs. However, shortly after they started to examine him, there was a bomb scare at the mall and the EMTs had to evacuate."

"How did G pull that off?" Sam realized he accidentally said that out-loud, not in his head as he had intended.

"How indeed. Really, it was quite simple. He pulled out his phone, which was broken I might add, but the EMTs didn't pick up on that. Mr. Callen pretended to talk to someone, then, in his best authoritative voice, told everyone there was a bomb threat and to evacuate."

"And they did," Sam correctly surmised.

"Of course. Mr. Callen is very good at persuading people; almost as good as he is at avoiding medical procedures. And when they all got outside..."

"G was MIA," Sam concluded. He didn't need Hetty to confirm. He knew his partner too well. "Do we know if he is Ok?"

"For the sake of your starving family, I won't comment on the usage of the word Callen and Ok in the same sentence. I am heading up to Ops as we speak to check on him," she informed Sam. "Go eat dinner. I'll text you a status. Now go."

"Thanks Hetty. You are the best. Merry Christmas," Sam replied brightly.

"Well considering it is only 22 December, your greeting is a bit early but none-the-less, thank you. Now scoot," and with that Hetty disconnected the call.

Sam returned his phone to the pocket of his black jeans and hurried back into the main lobby of the school to search out his family. He saw them talking to some of the other parents near the exit doors. Walking over to them he asked, "Ready? I'm starving."

Kamran eagerly jumped up and down. "Oh yes Daddy. Being an actress is very hard work."

Michelle sought Sam's eyes over their bouncing daughters head. "Everything Ok Sam?"

Sam didn't exactly answer his wife; instead he grabbed Kam by one hand and his wife by the other and headed out the door. "You won't believe what Hetty is doing in way of gifts this year. First, I am off until 5 January."

Kamran squealed and Michelle smiled fondly at her husband. As they approached the Challenger, Sam disengaged his hands and dug out the keys. A chirp later and he opened the passenger door for his lovely women and pushed the front seat forward so his daughter could climb in the back.

Kam was halfway in the car when she halted. "There is something on the seat Daddy."

Sam heart dropped to his knees. His back seat had been empty when he left the mall. The car was locked at the school. There shouldn't be anything on the seat. "Honey-bee, whatever it is don't touch it. Climb slowly back out ok?"


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: And the winner is JaniceS! Most were right in suspecting who but left the package and JaniceS was brave enough to guess what it was. As a reward I'll post two chapters today since I did promise to finish before Santa delivers his presents. Also, this chapter is pitfully short._

Michelle's breath caught in her throat. She knew exactly what Sam did for a living. As parents, they were always worried that Sam's job and hers for that matter would intersect with their personal lives. If whatever was in Sam's car now was dangerous, and hurt their daughter, neither parent would ever be able to forgive themselves.

"It's Ok Daddy," Kamran said backing out of the car holding the object from the back seat. When she was standing on the parking lot surface, Sam and Michelle could see that she was holding a small bouquet of white roses. "They are from Uncle Callen. See, I told you he was here."

"How the hell?" Sam muttered softly under his breath. "He could barely walk when I left him." And though he said it quietly, Michelle heard every word and wondered how Callen got hurt this time and how serious it was. Not too, judging by the fact the blond agent was able to make it to Kam's show, break into Sam's car and leave the flowers. Then again, this was Callen and even if death was knocking on his door, the man would hold him off to keep a promise, especially if it involved Sam or his family.

Michelle sighed in relief and let out a small giggle at the look on Sam. He had a fake smile plastered on his face as he told his daughter how nice it was of Uncle Callen to get her flowers and leave them in his car, but his eyes told a different story; one that ended with him killing his partner for scaring him to death. "Come on Sam," she said gently tugging on his sleeve. "We can thank Uncle Callen later," or yell at him as the case might be. "Let's go eat."

With that, Kam climbed back into the car clutching her roses. Sam and Michelle got in the front and they headed off to the restaurant. On the way, Sam told them about Hetty's gift and the fact they had to be on a flight out of LAX to JFK at 1400 tomorrow. Michelle's mind raced with the logistics of getting ready that quickly and she knew she'd have to do most of it alone. After this many years as partners, Michelle knew that Sam was going to go 'visit' Uncle Callen tonight and do one of three things, kill him, lecture him, or drag him to get medical care. She thought it was safe to rule out the first one, and decided Sam would do both the second and third choices.

Michelle wasn't going to complain because she knew this partnership was as good for Callen and it was for Sam. When Sam first took this job, she was concerned for his safety, but since he was paired with Callen, her worries were dismissed a bit. Yes, it would always be a high-risk job. She knew and accepted that fact. However, she also knew Callen would move heaven and earth to protect Sam and that gave her peace of mind. If Sam had to go out later tonight to take care of Callen, Michelle thought it was a fair and reasonable trade for Callen always having Sam's back.


	9. Chapter 9

It was dark night, even for the light prone LA. Callen stumbled his way to his car, though it was exhaustion, not darkness that caused him to fumble his way thru the streets to his vehicle. When he finally arrived, he leaned heavily across its slick surface for a few minutes before opening the door and slipping inside. It felt good to sit in the soft leather seat and lean his head back against the rest. If he wasn't careful, he could easily fall asleep or unconscious, he really wasn't sure which would win. However, he still had to drive home, so he forced his body to sit up, turned on the radio to a loud rock station and cranked up the AC to keep him as alert as possible.

The forty minute drive home seemed endless and when he finally pulled into the driveway, without incident, he was extremely grateful. Dragging his bone-weary body out of the car, he entered his house. The couch beckoned him from the living room, but his training made him give the house the once over before relaxing. He only peered up the staircase because he knew at the moment he was incapable of climbing it. Satisfied his house was secure; he plopped on the couch and within five minutes, was out like a light.

NCIS LA - NCIS LA

Sam tucked his daughter into bed with a good-night kiss before turning out her light and leaving the room. The doting father headed back downstairs with a definite purpose. He found Michelle in the den, tiding up the day's mess. Before Sam could even speak she said, "See you later. Be careful. Tell Callen we will miss him this Christmas and that I hope he feels better."

Sam walked over to his wife and enveloped her in a huge hug before laying a kiss on top of her head. "You know me too well."

"Hmmmm," she replied, rotating in his embrace to face him. "Almost as well as Callen," she replied playfully as she reached around and gave his firm cheeks a little squeeze.

Inwardly, Sam groaned and he considered ditching his partner and staying with his wife. However, Michelle must have sensed his conflict and she stepped back, away from him. "He needs you Sam. I will be here when you get back. I will always be here."

"Did I ever tell you, you are the best wife in the whole wide world?"

Michelle arched an eyebrow at him. "It seems to me this morning you accused me of being inconsiderate when you had to clean out the shower drain."

"It was like a rat got stuck in there," he muttered under his breath, though Michelle heard him.

In her best indignant manner she accused him. "Are you saying your wife, the so called love-of-your-life has hair like a rat?"

"Only when it falls out a clogs the drain," Sam replied truthfully which earned him a slap on the arm.

"Go on. Get out of here before Kamran and I go in New York without you," she threatened.

Smiling, Sam turned and headed for the door. "You wouldn't do that. You need me to haul the five hundred shopping bags you and Kam are going to collect once you guys and my credit card get loose in the city," Sam threw over his shoulder. "You will need your beast of burden," and with that he left the house.

"Honey, the good stores deliver to your room and I only shop in the good stores." Michelle headed upstairs to start packing for the three of them because knowing Callen, it would be highly unlikely Sam would return anytime soon from his medical mission of mercy.

NCIS LA -NCIS LA

The doorbell roused him to wakefulness, but he couldn't seem to make his body respond quick enough before he heard the front door opening. Instinctually, he knew it was Sam, though he still reached for his weapon. When he saw the big Navy SEAL enter his living room, he let his body sink back into the couch.

"Ya could have rung the bell," Callen groused from his prone position.

Sam walked over to the light switch on the wall and flipped it on causing Callen to wince and cover his eyes with his right arm. "I did ring the bell. Four times."

"Turn out the damn light. You're blinding me." Callen attempted to turn his face towards the back of the couch, but he was having trouble getting his limbs to cooperate.

In his best 'big bad wolf' imitation, Sam huffed, "Better to see you with."

However, the big guy did not like what he saw. The side of Callen's face that was visible was cut and bruised, his left arm was being held in a way that made Sam think Callen was protecting it and the left leg of his sweatpants showed an ominous, dark red stain. "Is this some pathetic ploy to get invited to Christmas? Cause we aren't going to be home you know."

Callen didn't know that and it clearly peaked his interest because he removed his arm from his face and squinted up at his partner. "Where are you going to be?" he demanded.

Sam laughed. His partner was the only guy who would try to intimate someone lying flat on his back on a couch. "Hetty is sending us that is Michelle, Kamran and I to New York City. We will even be able to visit Aiden."

As Callen processed that information, he struggled into a sitting position. This was huge. He knew Sam had wanted to get away on a vacation this year, but circumstances hadn't allowed for it to ever materialize. And getting to see Aiden, well that was super important to a family man like Sam. It had been a long while since Sam had seen his son and Callen knew it was eating at his partner, even if he kept it well hidden. Looking up at Sam, he saw concern and worry in his dark brown eyes, and Callen knew he was the cause of it. He had to remedy that immediately.

"Are you ready?" he queried his partner as he swung his legs onto the floor, finally achieving a fully upright position.

"Of course not. Hetty only told us a few hours ago. After Kam's play. By the way, my daughter loved the flowers. Me, not so much that you broke into my car to leave them. Scared Michelle and I when Kamran said there was something on the seat, after she climbed into my supposedly locked car."

Callen ducked his head for a moment before raising it again and meeting Sam's eyes. "I'm really sorry big guy," he said sincerely. "I wanted to surprise her. I didn't..." he shrugged and let the sentence hang.

"It's Ok," Sam replied. "Was a nice touch. Should have thought of it myself. Oh yeah, that's right. I was too busy rescuing you."

"If that was your idea of rescuing me pal, you need some remedial training. A ladder would have been nice so I didn't have to skydive into Santa's Winter Wonderland without a parachute."

"Well maybe," Sam suggested, "you should have held on longer to that snowflake so I could have had time to get a ladder."

Callen gave him an incredulous look. "The damn thing ripped out of the ceiling. I didn't let go!"

Sam face gave his partner a 'see-I-told-you-so' expression. "Been telling you G. Lay off the bacon and the burgers."

Instead of retorting, Callen asked his partner, "Are you done?" Sam gave a little shoulder roll. "Because, if you are, I could use a hand getting upstairs."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "And why am I helping you upstairs?"

"Because I was thrown off the second floor of a mall, hit a snowflake, and crashed into Santa's Castle, after being eaten by an escalator." Callen held out his right arm. "Little help partner."

Sam grasped Callen's forearm and helped leverage him off the couch. It took a few minutes for Callen to find his equilibrium and Sam kept a steady grip on him. When he finally did find his balance, Callen had all the weight on his right leg; only the toe of his left leg touched the floor.

"Can you put weight on it?" Sam's voice was concerned. Callen had obviously been walking on it when he bought the flowers and came to see the play.

"It's not broken, if that is what you are asking." To prove his point, Callen placed his foot flat on the floor and shifted a little of his weight to the injured limb. "It hurts like hell though and too much pressure and it bleeds." Callen started limping towards the staircase. "That is why you are taking me to the hospital."

Sam almost fell over when what his partner said registered. "Wait. You are asking that I take you to the hospital?"

Callen reached the bottom of the stairs then stopped. "I think I did say that in English, not Russian."

"I understand Russian."

Callen contemplated that remark. "I guess. Enough to understand that I suppose, if I had said it in Russian, which I didn't." Callen switched his gaze from his partner, to the stairs then back. "A little help here."

"I thought you wanted me to take you to the hospital." Sam gestured towards the front door. "My car is that way."

Callen sighed then replied in a slow, measured voice, as if he were talking to a little child. "I need to clean up first, before we go."

"You need to clean up first?" Sam echoed.

"Yea. Like take a shower and change clothes. Help. Stairs. Please."

Sam gave his partner the once over. "Let me make sure I have got this straight. You, G Callen, of your own volition, are asking me to take you to a medical facility."

"Yes. I need medical treatment and I am NOT having you suture my leg no matter how much field training you have. And I am sure as hell not calling the witch doctor known as Hetty Lange. Now get over here, or you are going to have to carry me up these stairs."

Sam walked over to where Callen was standing and provided support on his bad side.

"And why are we are going upstairs?"

"Shower. Clean clothes. I don't like being dirty."

"How hard did you hit your head?" Callen ignored him, gripping the railing with his right hand and putting his good foot on the first riser. The two men slowly made their way up the narrow staircase; a tight fit like the Grinch and chimneys.

When they got into Callen's bedroom, he motioned towards the bed, the only piece of furniture in the room one could sit on. "Need to rest a second," he said leveraging his battered body onto the mattress.

Sam remained standing, looking down at his partner in puzzlement. "I don't understand you."

"I am a man of mystery," Callen quipped. "Think you could get out some clean clothes for me while I take a shower? Shorts, sweats, t-shirt." Biting his lower lip, Callen rose from the bed and limped towards the bathroom.

"Need help?" Sam asked.

"Nope. I have to draw the line somewhere," he shot back though Sam noticed he did leave the door ajar. "I'll call if I get in trouble. In my own bathroom."

"If anyone could," Sam muttered, "it would be you." Moving over to the one and only dresser in the room, Sam got out clothes for Callen and neatly piled them on the bed before sitting on it himself.

The shower was agonizing on so many levels, but Callen was determined to see this thing thru. He was not going to spoil Sam's family Christmas. Eventually, he came out of the bathroom, a towel tightly wrapped around his slim hips. Sam eyed him critically, noticing the bruising on his torso that wasn't previously visible. Without a word, Callen shuffled over to the pile of clothes, dropped the towel on the floor without any embarrassment and started pulling on his clothes; it wasn't like the two men hadn't seen each other naked before in the locker room and frankly, Callen didn't have the energy to be modest. In fact, he even took Sam's offer of assistance gratefully, allowing the big guy to support him and pull things up and over, as required.

The two men made their way slowly downstairs though Sam had a few doubts whether he was assisting or carrying Callen because the man leaned on him for a lot of support. Once on the first floor, Callen had to rest for a few minutes on the couch to recover. While he was catching his breath, he asked Sam to secure his gun, not wanting to take it to the hospital; that always attracted undue attention. He would just have to fight down his fears and trust his partner to keep him safe.

Sam truly didn't believe Callen was going to willing go to the hospital, so when he asked the blond if he was ready, Sam fully expected to receive some excuse as to why they couldn't go now. His jaw nearly hit the floor in amazement when Callen willing rose from the couch and headed for the front door. All the way to the car, Sam kept waiting for Callen to come up with a way to back out. When they got to the passenger side of the Challenger, the blond stopped and looked over at Sam. Here it comes, Sam thought.

"You're not going to make me sit on that crinkly blue tarp again are you?" Callen whined. "See, I am not bleeding and I won't mess up the inside of your car."

Sam's jaw nearly dislocated one again. That was Callen's attempt to get out of this trip? It was pathetic at best. "Nah. I'll let it slide."

Callen smiled in relief, opened the door, and obediently slipped into the seat before shutting the long door. Sam shook his head in disbelief as he walked around the car and got into the driver's seat. With a sideways glance at his overly cooperative partner, Sam reached for the ignition and gave it a twist; he fully expected Callen had somehow sabotaged it so it wouldn't start. But the big V8 purred to life. Sam thought he saw a little twinkle in Callen's blue eyes before he laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

When they arrived at the hospital's emergency room, Sam found a spot; far enough from the door that told him it was going to be busy inside. Callen's eyes opened when Sam shut off the engine. The agent took in his surroundings. "Ok. Let's get this over with," the hurt man proclaimed as he opened the door and maneuvered his stiff body out of the low-slung car.

Callen hung onto the door for a minute to get his balance and when Sam walked around the car to offer assistance, the ex-elf accepted it graciously. Shocked by his partner's antics, or lack thereof, and unable to figure out what type of con Callen was running on him, Sam went with the flow and once again assisted his partner into the busy ER waiting room. His brown eyes scanned the room, coming to rest on two unoccupied chairs in the far corner of the room, where their backs would be to a wall. He knew that would make Callen, as well as himself, feel secure.

"Sit here," Sam directed as he helped Callen over to the corner and watched as the shorter man slowly sank into the orange colored chair. Who decorated these places anyway, Sam wondered as he walked up to the reception desk, all the time keeping one eye on his insanely agreeable partner. The woman behind the window handed him a clipboard of paperwork to compete and Sam accepted it and went back to where Callen waited. "I suppose you'll be wanting me to fill this out?" he sarcastically intoned.

"No need." Callen reached for the clipboard and pen. "I can do it." With that, he studiously bowed his head and started filling in the information. Some data was valid, such as his age, but other, such as his name was an alias. Sam watched slack-jawed as Callen, without a whine or complaint, completed the five hundred pounds of forms then handed them back to him. "Wanna delivery these buddy? My leg is a bit sore."

Wordlessly, Sam took the competed paperwork back up to the window, handed it to the lady, who scanned it quickly. "This all seems to be in order. I'm afraid it will be a bit of a wait. We are swamped tonight." She gestured with her chin towards the waiting area. "Full moon, I guess. Have a seat. We'll call when we are ready."

Sam returned to the empty seat to Callen's left and sat. "It's gonna be a while. They're busy."

Callen's eyes swept the room, as if to confirm Sam's declaration. Silently, he used his good hand to rifle thru the rather beat up magazines on the table to his right. The selection was dismal but he didn't utter a word of disagreement, simply selected Ladies Home Journal and started perusing its contents.

"You do know they stopped publishing that magazine in July," Sam informed his partner.

Callen glanced up from the magazine and over at his partner. "Huh," was all he uttered before dropping his eyes back to the page he was reading.

Sam sat there watching Callen read the LHJ as if it were the most fascinating thing on the planet. Finally, he gave in to his disbelief. "What are you reading?" he demanded.

Callen glanced up again, and then did a quick scan of the waiting area as if to see if Sam was talking to someone else. Deciding his partner might be addressing him, he said, "Me?"

"No, the guy in the corner barfing into the bucket." Unfortunately, Sam was accurate as a man on the other-side of the waiting area tossed his cookies into a plastic bedpan. A nurse came along, and much to the relief of all, escorted him into the inner sanctum. "Yes, you."

Awkwardly using only his right hand, Callen tried to turn the magazine so Sam could see. "Vacuums. I'm reading an article on vacuums."

Leaning back in his chair, Sam slowly shook his head. "I gave you an automated vacuum for Christmas last year and you returned it."

"Robots, Sam. I told you. I don't like robots."

Sam sighed in frustration, as they went over a well-worn conversational point. "It was a vacuum G. Not a robot that was going to attack you in your sleep."

Callen flipped the magazine around and started reading again. "Ya never know." he muttered. "I'll bet Eric could program it to do all sorts of nasty things."

Sam felt like throttling his partner, but instead, he tucked his hands under his armpits and went silent.

Two hours went by and still they had not been called. Sam had gone to the window to make sure they hadn't been forgotten but the reception assured him they were still in the queue. When he returned to his chair and told Callen the news, he fully expected his partner to declare he had enough and storm out. However, Callen took the news with a small sigh, then closed his eyes and appeared to nap. Sam was tempted to reach out and check Callen's pulse to see if he was still alive. His recalcitrant partner was never this cooperative and patient in any type of medical situation. Sam finally came to the conclusion that Callen must have really hit his head hard, and was suffering from some sort of brain injury that was making him mellow.

Finally, a nurse called out for Tom Martin, Callen's alias, and Sam nudged him. "Let's go sleeping beauty. You're up."

Callen opened his eyes and stretched which cause him to grimace. "I was awake for those playing along."

"Ah-huh. Oh look," Sam said as he glanced over to where the nurse was waiting. "She brought you a wheelchair." Sam knew Callen's feelings about being pushed around in or by anything. This outta be good he thought. However, Callen slowly limped over to where the petite blond nurse stood, gave her one of his smiles and without a fuss, sat in the chair and put his feet on the two resting platforms.

"What the ..." But Sam stopped short of uttering the profanity.

Twisting his neck slightly, Callen cocked an eyebrow at his fuming partner. "Something wrong Sam?" he asked donning his best choir-boy expression.

The nurse was now staring at him too, not understanding why the large man seemed upset.

"Nothing," Sam muttered. "Everything is fine, if we are in the twilight zone."


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: Yes this grew a bit past the 9 chapteres. End is now at the 12th chapter. Enjoy._

The nurse grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed Callen into the back were the examination areas were located. Sam followed along behind them looking a bit like an overgrown sulking child or a lunatic since he kept muttering under his breath. Sam prided himself on being able to figure out what Callen was doing most of the time, but now he was stumped.

They turned into one of the highly equipped examination areas and the nurse stopped, set the brakes on the chair and walked around to the front of it. "Do you need assistance getting on the table…," she checked the paperwork on her silver, metal clipboard, "Mr. Martin?"

Callen meekly looked up at her from the chair and gave a shy smile. "Nah, I think I can make it. I have gym shorts on under my sweats. Would you like me to strip down to them so the Doctor can examine my leg?" the polite, helpfully patient humbly suggested. Sam, behind the nurse's back, rolled his eyes at Callen's antics.

The nurse consulted the clipboard again, verifying it did mention a leg wound. "That is a super idea, Mr. Martin. Then I won't have to ask you to put on one of our air conditioned gowns," she said with a smile of her own that was bordering on the edge of flirty.

Callen leveraged his body out of the wheelchair and using the exam table for support, maneuvered out of his sweatpants. Somehow, the man almost made it into a seduction ritual, though he really did nothing other than remove his pants by tugging on them in Sam's opinion. However, when Sam glanced over at the nurse, her face was registering the fact she was enjoying the scene. After Callen got the pants off, he carefully climbed on the table, his good leg dangling over the side, and his bad one supported on the table. Sam swore the nurse gave a little sigh of regret that the show was over as she stepped closer and took a look at the blood soaked bandages. "We're going to have to remove them," she briskly noted.

Sam, who was watching his partner like a hawk, saw a momentary crack in Callen's cheerful facade. "Yea," the blond replied with a slight pause. "I guess so."

"But first," the nurse reached for the blood pressure cuff and the thermometer, "I need to get your BP and temp." She glanced at the zipped hoodie Callen was wearing.

Without missing a beat, Callen slowly unzipped the jacket, shrugged it off, then without a warning, flung it at the glaring Sam. "Hold that would ya buddy." He turned his attention back to the attentive nurse. "That better?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave into a husky baritone.

The nurse did a quick scan of Callen's rather tight fitting t-shirt. "Definitely. If you would put this," she held out the probe with two fingers, "under your tongue, please," and without a fuss, Callen did as requested letting his fingers lightly brush hers as the probe changed hands.

The nurse wrapped the BP cuff around his right bicep, taking a very long time, in Sam's opinion, to make sure it was in the perfect position. Callen sat quietly, thermometer in his mouth, with a little smile on his face; not an easy feat all things considering. The nurse took a BP reading but apparently wasn't happy with the results so she repeated the test. After the second time, she ripped the cuff loose with the familiar Velcro sound filling the room. That was followed by a beep signifying the temperature reading was also complete. With a little smile, the nurse reached over and removed the probe. "Your blood pressure is a bit elevated, Mr. Martin. Your temperature," she glanced at the screen, "is normal."

Inwardly, Callen scolded himself. He needed to hold it together. It was wearing on him being here in the hospital and his blood pressure was giving him away. To cover, he plastered another saccharine smile on his face. "Maybe it is the company." It was clear he did not mean Sam, who once again, was shaking his head at Callen's antics. His partner was up to something and Sam was starting to pick up on the little tell-tale signs but he couldn't form it into a picture, yet.

The nurse put away the equipment, and then cheerfully announced, "Shall we remove that bandage now?"

'No. Let's not', he said silently in his mind. What Callen really would prefer to do was leave this place now. However, he looked over at Sam, and firmed his resolve. "Let's do it!" was his upbeat reply as if he had something to do with the process other than to sit and endure the pain.

The nurse was very gentle, but the dried blood had adhered the bandage to the wound, and try as he might, Callen couldn't stem a little whimper from escaping his lips. When she was done, the nurse looked at Callen with sympathetic eyes. "I'm sorry. I know that wasn't pleasant."

Callen gave her a deliberately weak smile. "Had to be done," he answered heroically and he swore he heard Sam groaning as he stood to one side watching the show.

The nurse gave him a compassionate pat on the arm. "The doctor will be by in a bit," and with that, she left the exam area. Callen watched her go, then scooted back in the bed, laid his upper body against the raised mattress and closed his eyes to regroup. The urge to bolt was very strong and he had to fight to get in under control.

Sam moved closer to the side of the bed, and then deliberately took a hard look at the exposed wound and stated the obvious. "That looks bad."

"Looks can be deceiving," Callen replied, keeping his eyes firmly shut.

"Uh-huh. Like your behavior. What are you doing?" Sam demanded of his partner in a gruff tone.

Callen half-opened his blue eyes. "Resting?"

With a scowl, Sam dropped into the chair by the bed. "Yea. Right. This whole charade you are running here. What's it about?"

Opening both eyes, Callen slid up a little higher in the white sheeted bed. "I think I'm in the hospital. May be flirting a little. And I am cooperating."

"You hate hospitals. You are flirting a lot and badly I might add. And you don't cooperate, ever!"

Callen shifted his weight a little on the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position for his injured leg which was throbbing. "What's wrong with my flirting technique?"

Sam snorted. "There is not enough time in the day to answer that question."

Callen simply shrugged and closed his eyes again. "It seemed to be working."

"Yeah, one person in the room had an elevated blood pressure. The person trying to hide something."

The injured agent did not rise to the bait and silence reigned in the room. Callen appeared to be napping and Sam sat in the chair vacillating between being suspicious and annoyed at his partner and happy because for once, he didn't have to handcuff the man to the bed to ensure he got proper medical treatment. Sam kept trying to tell himself this was a good thing; however, the other side of him was pretty sure this was some new con which he still hadn't figured out yet. A leopard doesn't change its spots. When someone walked thru that door with a needle, the true Callen would quickly emerge Sam surmised.

While they were waiting for the Doctor, Sam sent a quick text update to Hetty which didn't say much other than 'In hospital. Waiting for Doctor.'

True to his form, Callen opened his eyes before the Doctor even entered the room. However, uncharacteristically, Callen gave the man a small smile instead of a laser piercing scowl as was his usual MO.

"Mr. Martin," the doctor started as he flipped though Callen's paperwork. "It seems we have had a run in with...ah… some holiday decorations?" He raised his eyes and gave Callen a quick appraisal.

"They won," Callen said with chagrin as he sat up a little higher on the bed.

"So I see," the medic said as he moved closer to the bed, observing the abrasions on the left side of Callen's face. "How exactly did this happen?"

"Well, I was up on the rooftop, stringing some lights, and I lost my footing. I slid down the shingles and as I became airborne, I tried to grab onto a nearby tree limb. Unfortunately, that only temporarily halted my downward decent. The limb cracked and I crashed down, thru the other branches of the tree, and eventually ended up on the ground."

"I see. And the gash on your leg?"

"A piece of metal, like an I-beam, lying on the ground. I'm building a deck on the back of the house. The beam was going to be part of the support structure," Callen easily lied.

"Hmmm, well you may want to hire a professional, Mr. Martin," the doctor recommend obviously not impressed with Callen's handyman skills. He placed the clipboard on the edge of the bed and reached for his stethoscope. "Lift your shirt for me please so I can listen." When Callen did what was requested, the doctor momentarily forgot about listening to his heart when he saw the black and blue canvas that was Callen's torso. "I think you'd better take your shirt completely off," the doctor instructed not happy with the little bit he could see.

Reluctantly, after a fugitive glance at Sam, Callen complied knowing full-well the multiple gunshot scars on his chest were going to start another discourse; one he preferred not to have. Sam, knowing exactly why his partner was hesitating, chimed in with, "My brother-in-law is an ex-cop."

As Callen pulled his navy t-shirt over his head, the doctor gave a low whistle as he spotted the scars. "How many times..."

"Five," Callen wearily supplied. "I'm retired now. Or forced retirement, if you will," he concluded bitterly hoping that would stop the Doctor from asking anymore questions.

The doctor got the subtle hint that the subject was a sore one for his patient so he moved on and listened to Callen's heart and lungs. "Things sound ok," he reported as he rehung his stethoscope around his neck. "Did you lose consciousness at all, Mr. Martin?"

Sam was interested to see how Callen was going to answer this question. Once again, Sam was caught off-guard when Callen punted it to him. "I'm not sure. Sam, you were there. Did I black out at all?" Callen gave a quick conspiring glance at the doctor. "He was standing there ya know. He didn't even try to catch me. Big guy like him."

'Oh I will fix your little red wagon,' Sam thought. "Oh yes Doctor. He did black out for maybe," Sam gazed at the ceiling as if hard in thought, "fifteen minutes."

"I think you are wrong," growled Callen, his true colors emerging for a brief moment.

"I don't think so. I was there remember. Just standing around watching you fall."

"I see," the doctor noted grabbing his pen from his coat pocket and scribbling a note on Callen's chart.

While he was doing that the two partners were having a silent eye conversation that basically went:

_'Ha. Take that.' _

_'I'm going to kill you.' _

_'You have to catch me first, something you can't do on a good day let alone with that leg.'_

_'Oh yea? Just wait and see what Santa brings you for Christmas. I think the Challenger would look good with a new paint job… maybe pink.'_

'_You wouldn't dare!'_

At that point the silent argument between the two men was interrupted by the Doctor. "Ok. Here is how we are going to proceed. I am ordering an x-ray of your left arm, which I noticed you are favoring, the left leg, and also the torso to check for fractured ribs. I'm also ordering a CAT scan of the head, to be safe."

"Gee," Sam said being mischievous. "I wonder if they will get the same results as last time."

The doctor's interest was piqued. "Oh. He has had previous scans? What did they find?"

"That his head is empty." Sam gave Callen a big grin. "Nothing between those two ears but white space."

Callen turned to the doctor and gave him a long-suffering face. "See what I have to deal with. I told my sister not to marry him." Shrugging, Callen concluded, "She didn't listen. I guess I can always hope she comes to her sense and divorces him."

"But what about the kids? Your darling niece and nephew? You don't want them to come from a broken home," Sam innocently interjected looking every bit a pious as a minister.

The doctor looked from one man to the other and decided perhaps they both were a few fries short of a happy meal. "The orderly will be in shortly to take you to radiology. I will be back when the results are available." With that, the doctor exited the room for his next patient.

"I was never unconscious," Callen moodily accused his partner as he settled back against the raised bed.

Sam sat in the high backed chair alongside the bed. "Oh yes you did. When we found you under that pile of broken plastic candy, you were out cold."

"Was not," Callen disagreed and Sam smiled. This was the Callen he knew and understood. Then he was thrown a curveball. "But, maybe it is for the best. I did take a few good punches from that escaped WWF rejected."

"He wasn't all that big," Sam scoffed even though he knew he was and he was amazed Callen had done as well as he had in fighting the guy. "You were sloppy. Let him get the drop on you. Lost your technique."

"I'll show you technique," Callen growled. "Next time. In the gym. You and me. You're going down big man."

"In your dreams." Further conversation was halted by a tall, young orderly who strode into the room pushing a wheelchair.

"Mr. Martin, I'm here to take you to radiology," he cheerfully announced as he parked the chair and applied the brakes. Walking to the side of the bed, he asked, "Do you need assistance getting into the chair?"

Cautiously, it had been a while since he was vertical, Callen slid off the bed onto the floor, taking all his weight on his right leg and using the bed for support. When the orderly reached out and gently supported Callen by holding on to his right bicep, Sam saw Callen flinch a little but he didn't pull away; Callen was not one to have anyone, even Sam, in his personal space. But Callen was behaving like a meek, mild lamb; Sam still was finding it disturbingly.

"Best keep a close eye on him," Sam suggested to the orderly. "He sometimes wanders."

Flipping the brakes off on the chair, the orderly replied, "Haven't lost one yet."

Sam wasn't too sure of that and he started to follow them. However, the orderly kyboshed that idea. "Please wait here, or if you want, you can pop down to the cafeteria. It's open 24/7. I know it sounds weird but the tuna salad is outstanding. They have a professional Chef you know."

Sam didn't know and didn't care. No matter what, Sam wasn't inclined to eat tuna fish from a hospital. No, he'd sit right here and wait, making a bet that Callen would disappear out of radiology and the hospital in less than thirty minutes.

As the 30 minute window passed with no one rushing up to tell him Callen was gone, Sam began to wonder. At the 45 minute the wonder morphed into concern and at the 90 minute mark, mild panic. He was rising from his chair to go find someone to ask when the orderly wheeled Callen back into the area.

Sam couldn't keep a smirk from appearing on his face. "Did he give you a hard time?" he smugly asked, convinced that Callen had caused some sort of ruckus.

The orderly parked the chair and assisted Callen back into the bed. Without any resistance, Callen propped himself up in the bed and twitched the cover over his good leg.

"Not at all. No problems other than the usual holiday season backlog. They were running an hour behind schedule down there. No organization." He reached over and patted Callen on the shoulder. "Mr. Martin was a trooper."

Callen gave the pleasant orderly an 'ah shucks' grin. Sam wanted to puke.

"I imagine it will take them at least two hours to get the results up here based on the zoo down there. Did you try the food?" he addressed Sam.

"No," Sam replied rather curtly.

"Well," the orderly said as he took the wheelchair and headed out of the room. "You probably have plenty of time to grab a bite. Later guys," and with that he was gone.

"Can't believe you are still here," Sam started without a preamble. "Why?"

Callen sat up a little straighter in the bed and angled his body towards Sam. "I'm cooperating."

"Yes. Yes you are. But that is not what I asked. Why?"

Callen's piercing blue eyes which were staring at Sam's brown ones, revealed nothing. Sam, who was pretty adept at gauging his partner's mood, was stumped. He had no idea what was going on behind those blue orbs and when Callen finally spoke, Sam knew he wasn't going to find out.

"I'm hungry. The last thing I had to eat today, make that yesterday," Callen amended after noting it was 2:00 am, "was that tootsie pop you gave me. And I didn't get to finished it," he complained.

"You want me to go get you food, so you can escape?" Sam incredulously asked.

"I want you to go get me food, because I'm hungry," Callen patiently explained. "I'd go get it myself, but somehow I think you are going to disapprove of that too."

"Damn right. You are staying right there. In that bed. Not going anywhere until the Doctor comes back with the results. And no eating. What if they have to do emergency surgery?"

Callen gave his partner a ' your loco' look. "I am not going to need emergency surgery, or any surgery for that matter."

Sam gestured to the ugly gash on Callen's shin. "What about that."

For the second time since they arrived at the hospital, Sam caught Callen's composure crumbling around the edges as the injured man reexamined his wound. "Won't need surgery. It's not broken," he said with false bravado that Sam saw right thru.

"Yea, but it will need stitching. With needles." Sam saw the tell-tale tightening of Callen's lower jaw and he knew his buddy was fighting back his panic.

It took Callen a few minutes to ensure he was able to maintain his composure. Damn Sam for pushing his buttons when Callen was trying so hard to be good. When he finally spoke, it was with deflection. "Can I pee?"

Sam was taken back by the U-turn in the conversation. "What?"

"You said I couldn't get out of this bed. What if I have too pee?"

"Do you have to pee? I could get one of those urinal bottles," Sam helpfully suggested.

Callen couldn't repress the shudder that ran though his body. Been there, done that. "I don't have to pee. Yet. But for the record, if I do, I am walking to the bathroom." With that, Callen laid his head back and shut his eyes thereby ending the conversation.

Sam chuckled to himself softly, a little relieved to see a glimpse of the Callen he knew.


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: Thank you reviewers! You caught a mistake in the plot line in chapter 10 on Callen and Sam's relationship. It is supposed to be brother-in-law but the Sam screwed up and said step-brother (Ok, maybe it wasn't Sam but rather who goofed). The fat-finger has been fixed and posted. I don't do my best when I write fast but I am very happy you caught it so I could fix. Still and always love the reviews and corrections! One chapter left. The fat lady is taking a breath to sing the final note._

The orderly had been spot-on with his timing. Almost two hours to the mark since Callen had arrived back from radiology, the Doctor walked into the room. "Got your results, Mr. Martin," he announced as he flipped thru the papers. After studying them for a few minutes he continued, "You were lucky this time. No broken bones, not even a dent in the tibia which I was concerned about. Ribs clear. Left arm clear. Sprained, but keep it in a sling for a week, don't use it and you should be fine. Have your personal physician check it out in about a week to see if you need physical therapy."

"I'll make sure he goes to see Dr. Lang. His personal physician," Sam cheerful said which earned him a death glare from Callen. Since he already got the stare, Sam decided to wade into the pond some more. "What about his head? You must have found something wrong there. Maybe a concussion?" he helpfully suggested. "He has been acting peculiar."

"Really? In what way?" the medic inquired glancing up at Sam. "His results appear normal." The doctor took a penlight out, walked over and without notice, shone it in Callen's eyes.

Sam had seen Callen explode from lesser events in a hospital setting. While G was the coolest person Sam had ever run across in the face of danger, able to remain focused and unperturbed, that didn't extend to when he was in a hospital. Then Callen was an unstable compound, likely to explode the minutest of things, like a flashlight being flicked into his eyes. But once again, Callen sat there and appeared to take it in stride.

"Really don't see anything," the doctor said clicking off the light. "Perhaps his pupils are a bit sluggish, but then again it has been a long night. Any dizziness or nausea? Mr. Martin?"

Callen was quick to answer the doctor's question, not giving Sam a chance to state his opinion on Callen's physical state. He was not about to let anyone declare he had a concussion and have to be monitored. "Nope. None. Not at all."

The doctor seemed satisfied with that answer. "Now that wound on your leg will require stitches. You did manage to slice all the way to the bone, so it is going to go like this, first, the nurse will administer the lidocaine and when you are numb, I'll be back and to do the suturing. I will warn you, Mr. Martin. It will be a bit unpleasant. Are you allergic to any pain medications? I think it would be a good idea if we give you something now, so it can work its way into your system, before we stitch the wound.

Callen could feel his heart starting to beat faster. He was trying so hard to hold it together in the face of the needles, but he was slipping out of control again. "No. I, ah, don't react well to pain meds. I'll be Ok." a light sweat broke out on his back and a drop ran down his spine, almost making him shiver.

"I really advise..."

But Callen abruptly cut him off. "I said no...thanks," he tagged on but the thanks did nothing soften the tone. The doctor appeared confused about what seemed to be a 180 reversal from the mild mannered man he had dealt with so far. Callen could see the rising doubt in the Doctor's eye and was afraid he was about to order more tests. Callen had to try to salvage the situation. He lowered his voice and hung his head a bit as if in shame. "I had a bit of a problem, after I was shot five times, getting off the pain meds," he confessed. Callen let his whole body slump in dejection. "I got," he swallowed painfully, "hooked. It was hell getting clean. I vowed I would never go down that path again. It cost me friends, nearly my wife and children," Callen almost managed to get a tear to well in his eye. "Please, I can handle it. No drugs."

Sam wanted to stand up and applaud his partner's fiction; he almost had Sam convinced. The doctor was completely won over. "I understand. But for the future, while I know it is embarrassing to you to talk about your previous addiction, it is very important that you do put that on your medical history to ensure your doctors have a full picture and can treat you accordingly."

Callen raised his head a little and gave a weak smile. "Yes. Of course. You are right."

The doctor gave Callen a little pat on the shoulder and Callen thought he'd been patted more in the last 6 hours than in his entire childhood. He was beginning to feel like an old lady's lap dog.

"Oh yes," the medic recalled. "Your blood pressure was elevated when you arrived. Let's give it another check shall we?"

As if I really have a choice, Callen thought. As he was putting the cuff around Callen's right arm, the nurse walked into the room with a tray of syringes; lots of them.

Sam knew the minute his partner spotted the needles on the tray because of two things, he suddenly went pale and his blood pressure spiked as attested to by the machine on his arm. Callen also made no attempt to be charming or flirt with the nurse this time.

The nurse picked up on his pallor. "Mr. Martin? Are you alright?" The doctor looked over at his patient to see what had attracted the nurse's attention.

"I bumped my leg," Callen lied thru is teeth. "On the side-rail."

The doctor and nurse exchanged looks. Neither one of them had seen it happen though they could have missed it since each was focused on their own tasks.

The doctor removed the cuff. "Your blood pressure is still high, Mr. Martin. Perhaps, because you are a bit nervous? I imagine you have spent a bit more time in hospitals than you'd have liked to."

"You have no idea," Sam murmured.

"When you go see your personal physician, I recommend they monitor your blood pressure, and if it remains high, treat it," the doctor advised.

Callen composed his face into one of sincere acceptance. "Yes. Yes I will."

"I'll be back, after the lidocaine has had a chance to take effect. And don't worry, Mr. Martin. You will have no ill effects from it."

He left the room and the nurse moved closer to the bed to set things up. She set a sterile cloth under Callen's leg before arranging the six syringes within arm's reach. "If you are squeamish," you addressed Sam, "you might want leave the area until I am done injecting the needles."

"No. No. I am good," Sam said in a voice that was way too cheerful for Callen's liking.

Turning back towards Callen, she instructed, "You might want to advert your eyes too."

Once again, Sam was watching Callen like a group of church ladies eyeing the last slice of cheesecake at a covered dish supper. He saw the muscle twitch in Callen's lower jaw and the pure panic flash thru his eyes. This is it, Sam thought. He bolts now. Kicks over the tray, coughs up a lung, anything to stop what was going to happen next.

Callen kept telling himself if he was able to successfully survive all the terrible things that had happened to him in his life, the abuse, the torture, he could survive this too. He had too. This was for Sam and his family who Callen loved. They would have a Merry Christmas, he would not ruin it. In a tight voice he announced, "I'm good. Go ahead," and the nurse picked up the first needle and injected it into the flesh on his shin near the edge of the red, ragged wound.

Callen had thought it had hurt when they had cleaned the wound earlier in the night; that was child's play to enduring this torture. By the time the nurse strategically placed the last shot, he was visibly sweating and his breathing was ragged.

"There. All done," she said as she gathered up the used medical supplies. "The Doc will be back soon. He'll stitch that up and get you out of here. Been a long night, huh."

A long day and a long night, Callen thought. And now it was a new day; Callen had the feeling this one was going to be long too.

After the nurse left the room, the two men sat in silence for a while and Callen worked on composing himself again. Eventually, Sam rose from the chair and walked to G's side. Studying his partner's face, he laid his left hand flat against Callen's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "You ok, G?" he asked, hundred percent sincere. His partner wasn't fooling him. Sam knew he was struggling, even though Sam was still not sure why. He supposed Callen could have turned over a new leaf but that would be too much of a miracle, even for this time of year.

"I'm good," Callen answered thru clenched teeth.

Sam cocked his head to the side, studying his partner. "Why are you doing this?"

Callen adverted his eyes, pretending to check the door to see if the doctor was coming back. "Doing what?"

Before Sam could reply, the doctor did walk into the room. Callen and his timing. Sam backed away from the bed, as the doctor approached.

"Think we are ready to roll here," the medic stated, poking a little at the wound. "Can you feel that?" he queried. Callen shook his head no and the doctor picked up a needle and without preamble, started stitching.

It took 20 minutes for the doctor to finish and another 10 for the nurse to bandage the leg. That was followed by discharge instructions which included using crutches and keeping weight off the leg. Eventually, Callen was wheeled out to the waiting area while Sam brought the Challenger around to the door. The same orderly that took Callen to radiology, helped settle him in the front seat of the vehicle, before wishing him Happy Holidays and giving a little wave as he disappeared into the bowels of the hospital.

Sam got behind the wheel, and then glanced over at G in concern. "You good?"

"As I can be at this point," Callen answered in a fatigued voice.

Sam sought out the clock on the dash. 7:00 am. "I hear ya."

Sam maneuvered the black car out into the early morning traffic. As he drove towards Callen's house, a thought occurred to him; his partner was not known for keeping much food around his adobe. He seriously doubted over the next few days, Callen would be up to going grocery shopping or driving to get takeout, and he knew it was against Callen's security posture to have food delivered to his house.

"G," Sam said loudly since his partner's eyes were shut and his breathing pattern suggested he was napping.

"What?" came a slightly sleepy, slightly grumpy reply.

"You said you were hungry. Wanna stop for breakfast? I have time before the flight," he offered.

Callen was tempted, he was hungry. But he was also exhausted and knew something Sam didn't. "Nah. Not up to it," he honestly confessed.

"How about we swing by the grocery store. You can wait in the car and I'll go inside and pick you up a few things. To tide you over until you get back on your feet or foot."

"Funny," Callen returned. "I just wanna go home, Sam. Thanks. I appreciate what you are trying to do, but trust me I will be alright."

Sam had serious doubts that Callen's definition of alright and Sam's were in anyway similar. But he respected his partner's wishes and drove him straight home. Besides, he could always go out later, after he had Callen situated and stock the man's fridge.

They did make a short detour to swing by the office, where Sam ran inside and grabbed a pair of crutches from Hetty's medical supply area. Sam was determined to see to it that Callen was set on the right path before Sam and his family left for NYC. The likelihood of Callen going out on his own and obtaining crutches was as likely as Sam fitting into Callen's jeans; never gonna happen.

Callen gave a little huff, accompanied by an eye roll when he saw the crutches. Sam gave him a 'go ahead and challenge me' glare and surprisingly Callen backed down.

Six hours before he was supposed to be on a plane to Kennedy, Sam pulled into Callen's driveway. He made a point of getting out of the car before Callen, not really a hard feat, grabbing crutches from the trunk and presenting them to the man as he struggled to get out of the car. Somewhat grudgingly, Callen took one and Sam gave him a pointed look.

"My arm." Callen moved his left arm slightly. "Sprained. Supposed to be in a sling. Not use it." Callen knew his mistake the minute he said it and so did the big guy. Sam hadn't gotten a sling from Hetty's medical emporium. "I have one in the house," Callen quickly countered. In spite of his partner's assurance, Sam added that to his mental shopping list.

Callen, using one crutch, limped up to his doorway, but stood to one side to let Sam unlock it. The way Callen's house was laid out, you could see into the living room from the front door. As Sam opened the door, he was taken back by the sight. Callen simply hobbled past him and said one word "Hetty."


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note: Ok. So it did turn out to be the 12 days of Christmas. Never said I could count. This is the final chapter then it is Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight. Oh yes, and your last chance to review… just saying. Oh and if you are ever bored go back thru the story and find all the Xmas references to songs and movies._

On a good day, Callen's living room contained four major items: one chair, one couch, one small table and one floor lamp, unless you also counted the tea box on his mantle, the air plant, a few scattered books and an always half-played chess game. Today, however, it contained appreciably more.

In the corner was a live Frasier fir, maybe six feet in height, fully decorated to include a festive tree skirt around the bottom and a few scattered presents. On the mantle was a pine swag and red candles in holiday-themed holders. The precious box from the mantle had been relegated to a new bookcase that stood against the far wall. In the same case were a number of books and a boxed chess set. Sam wandered what Callen's feelings were on having his ever present game tucked away on a shelf instead of in the middle of his floor. He did note his partner's eyes searching the room desperately until they located the memory box from his mantle; that box was Callen's life.

Once Callen had ascertained all his stuff was still here, plus a bit more, he shuffled over to the couch and gratefully sank onto its plush surface. Sam stood in the middle of the room, still astounded. "How did you know?"

With a weary sigh, Callen explained. "Hetty periodically does this when I'm away. She takes it upon herself to improve my living conditions. But have no fear; she makes sure she uses my money for the upgrades."

"So let me see if I have this right," Sam said as he strolled over to examine the bookcase. "She basically breaks into your house and bank account and redecorates, or in your case decorates, without your permission."

"That about sums it up." Callen gestured to the couch he was laying on. "She has good taste and she assures me she is getting very good deals."

Sam shook his head at the audacity of their boss. "And you let her?"

Callen indifferently shrugged. "Not sure how to stop her. Has telling Hetty no ever worked? In a way, it is kind of handy. It happens while I'm gone. I don't have to go shopping, or make decisions. I usually like what she buys. She uses my money so there is no conflict of interest. Seems kind of like a good deal to me."

"Huh. Well, I have to..." Sam started before Callen swiftly cut him off.

"No you don't."

Crossing his arms on his chest, Sam looked indignant. "You don't know what I was going to say."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Callen gave his partner a little smug grin. "But I do know you were going to head over to the grocery store and stock my fridge before you left for New York with the family. Right?"

"Smart ass. I outta let you starve."

Callen sat up on the couch. "Not likely. Check out the fridge."

Sam walked into the kitchen, which was cheerfully lit by the morning sun and yanked open the fridge door. It was fully stocked with enough food for a few weeks, to include some tightly wrapped containers from Callen's favorite take-out joints. There was even a case of his favorite beer on the door.

"Cabinets too," Callen called out from the living room and out of curiosity, Sam peered in them. They were as well-stocked as the fridge.

Sam walked back into the living room and saw Callen had moved over by the tree, and like the miracle on 34th street, he was using the crutch to support himself.

Callen turned slightly and held up a phone for Sam to see and grinned. "Early Christmas present from Hetty. Same number. Fully charged." Turning serious, he spoke, almost pleading with Sam. "I'm fine, Sam. You saw I was fully checked out by the hospital. You heard exactly what the Doctor told me to do and you can see with your own eyes I am doing it," he pointed to the crutch. "I have food in the fridge, books on the shelf to read and fifteen days of vacation to rest and recuperate."

Callen moved back to the couch and sat down, before he fell down, though he kept that fact private. "Go. You have less than six hours until your flight. Enjoy this time with your family, with Aiden. You can't ever get that back."

Sam swallowed hard, thinking how true Callen's words were, especially coming from someone that had never had family. He wordlessly nodded his head. "Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"What I need is for you to leave so I can go to sleep," Callen said gruffly. "Go!"

Sam nodded, and then walked over to the couch as Callen rose to his feet. They exchanged a quick, manly hug, a Merry Christmas and then Sam headed for the door.

"Under the table, in the hallway, are presents for Michelle, Aiden and Kam. Michelle and Kam should open theirs before they leave."

"Thanks, G. That was very thoughtful. Your gift is over at the house..."

"And can stay there until you come back," Callen finished Sam's sentence as he sank back down on the couch. "Now get out. And lock the door behind you."

Sam grinned as he gathered up the presents and locked the door behind him even though he knew his partner would haul his tired ass off the couch and double check.

Driving home in the car, Sam realized as tired as he was, his mood was light. He had been worried about leaving his injured partner alone while he was in NYC with his family. But Callen had managed to alleviate all his concerns.

When he got home, Michelle was relieved to see him and Kam gave him a huge hug.

"Why don't you go take a quick nap," Michelle suggested. "Kam and I have the packing under control, though we may have to pick up a few cold weather things in the city."

"Of that I have no doubt," Sam replied as he leaned in to give his wife a kiss. "I know you girls love to shop," he whispered in her ear and she gave him a playful slap. "One sec. Speaking of shopping," Sam walked back out into the entry foyer and brought in the gifts. "Callen sent these over and said to tell you Merry Christmas." Sam read the tags and handed them out. "This big one is for you sweet-pea. This little box is for you," he announced handing an envelope sized, gaily wrapped box to Michelle. After inspecting the tag on the last present, Sam declared it was for Aiden and he placed it on the table so it could get packed to go with them.

"Can we open them before we go?" Kamran asked plaintively.

"Yep," Daddy Sam affirmed. "Uncle Callen specifically told me to tell you ladies to open them before you left."

Kam squealed with delight and tore the reindeer paper off the big rectangle. Inside, she discovered the perfect sized suitcase, in a jazzy pattern, that screamed his daughter's style. "Best...gift...ever," she crowed. Then she unzipped it and found there were a few more things inside of it. She extracted a galaxy-patterned ski jacket, with a complimentary hat, scarf and gloves; all perfect for their upcoming trip. His daughter launched into a long speech informing him that Galaxy was only the hottest style and yada, yada, yada. His ears were tired of listening by the time she was done.

"Now it's Mommy's turn," Sam suggested when his daughter came up for air.

A little more sedately, Michelle removed the wrappings from her present. Inside was a very generous gift certificate to Saks Fifth Avenue and a little note, in Callen's printing, telling her to buy something pretty to wear. Underneath that was another certificate to Per Se, one of the best restaurants in the city. The note on this one said 'you'll have to find your own babysitter' referencing the fact that Callen had, on occasion, watched Kam while Michelle and Sam went out for a special dinner. Michelle's eyes were sparkling and Sam knew Callen's gifts had hit a home run.

"But what about you Daddy? Where is your present from Uncle Callen? He always gets you something too."

For a moment Sam wondered if he had left a package in the trunk. "Uncle Callen and I are going to exchange gifts when we come back. When we give him his present."

That mollified the girl. "Oh. Like two Christmases."

"Exactly. Now go pack your new suitcase," Sam instructed his daughter and she scampered off.

Now that they were alone, Michelle turned to Sam and asked, "How is Callen?"

"He is," Sam paused for a moment to reflex, and then realized something. Callen had given him a gift though it hadn't been wrapped with ribbons or a bow. "Callen is good and I feel good too."

"Good? You are Ok with him being hurt and you not being here?" Michelle questioned, not quite believing his ears.

"Yep. I took him to the hospital. He let himself be thoroughly checked out, x-rays, needles, stitches..."

"Needles! Callen doesn't do needles," she exclaimed.

"Well he did. Sat there and let them stick six of them in his leg, then stitch it up."

Michelle shook her head in disbelief. "And he was conscious the whole time? You weren't holding him at gunpoint?"

"Conscious and didn't hit anyone, try to escape, any high-jinxes. He just sat there and gave me his gift."

"Not sure I'm following you, Sam," she stated, perplexed.

Sam reached out and held Michelle's hand. "His gift to me was peace of mind. His cooperation at the hospital. Putting up with a place he hates worse than anything in the world. And he did it for me. So I, could go away on this trip with my precious family," he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, "and not spend a single moment worrying about his health."

"Which you definitely would have," Michelle agreed. "That's a very special and generous gift he gave you, Sam. I don't know why he hates the medical profession, but he does."

"I think something happened to him, growing up, but he has never opened up to me about it...yet. I suspected the amount of real things I know about G Callen are a minuscule part of who he really is."

Michelle smiled gently and snuggled against her tall husband. "And yet you know more than most and I love that you care and worry about him. You are a big old softy."

"You ever say that in front of G," he faux-growled, "and you're gonna be in big trouble."

Michelle laughed then left the embrace. "Come on Paddington. You still have some packing to do."

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()())()()()()

Callen had just laid his head back down on the couch after answering a zillion excited texts from Kam thanking him for the gifts, followed by a phone call from the girl, and then one from Michelle, thanking him. Frankly, he was tired of being thanked and thought maybe the Grinch, before he turned around, had it right.

As his head hit the pillow, his phone rang again. He picked up the device and saw 'The Duchess' on the display. Briefly, he wondered why Hetty hadn't made him change it; maybe she figured it was a disguise. The only thing he was sure about was if he didn't answer it, she would visit him, like Jacob Marley, and bring along chains.

"Hetty," he said sliding the answering button to the on position.

"Mr. Callen," she replied cheerfully. "You have safely made it home."

As if she didn't know. Callen was pretty sure she had embedded a tracking device, sneakily, somewhere under his skin. "Yes. I'm home. Oh and thanks for the tree and stuff."

He could hear her beaming over the phone. "My pleasure. And the new end tables. Do you like them?"

Callen glanced over at the aforementioned items flanking either side of the sofa. "Your taste, as always, is impeccable. Except in jeans."

Hetty made a rude noise with her mouth. "You and I have a difference of opinion on how they should fit. And the bookcase? Now you won't have to leave your books and chess board on the floor."

Knowing it would be futile to express the opinion he liked his stuff on the floor, he simply said, "Yes. The bookcase is a nice touch too."

"Shall I send someone to pick you up? Or I can come myself if you prefer," she asked, taking the conversation in a new direction.

Rubbing a weary hand over his eyes, Callen pushed into a more upright position. "Not tracking here. And no, it is not because I have a concussion. The doctor cleared me. Ask Sam."

"Oh," Hetty said smugly, "I already have a full report from Sam and Doctor Green."

"Who?" Callen asked puzzled.

Callen could practically feel her disapproving gaze over the phone and they weren't doing a video chat. "Dr. Green was the physician in the ER that patched you up. Really, Mr. Callen. I know names don't mean a lot to you, and you intensely dislike medical personnel, but still it is rude not attempt to learn their names. And the nurse, whom you were flirting with is Christine."

"Names mean a lot to me," he muttered under his breath, "even if I don't have one."

"So shall I send someone or shall I pick you up?" Hetty re-asked bringing the conversation full circle.

"Still have no clue here, Hetty," Callen said in a slightly amused, slightly annoyed tone.

"For Christmas dinner on the 25th, you goose, which, I might add, I will be serving. Very Dickens-ness don't you think?" She didn't wait for a reply but continued onward. "We will have appetizers and soup at 1400 with dinner promptly at 1700. I expect you to be on time and not fashionably late, like last time when you showed up on the wrong day."

"It was an accident, Hetty. I swear," though they both knew he was lying.

"1400," she re-emphasized. "And the mode of transportation shall be?."

"I'll drive myself," he strongly declared in a tone that brooked no argument, at least in his mind. Hetty, however,thought otherwise.

"Are you cleared to drive?"

"You apparently have Dr. Green's number. Why don't you check it out with him?"

"Perhaps I will. In fact, maybe I should invite him to dinner. His family is from Chicago and he can't go home because of his work schedule."

Callen had long ago stopped wondering how Hetty knew, what she knew. "You wouldn't!" Hetty could hear him panicking under his calm facade.

"Put the arm in a sling, use the crutch and maybe I will reconsider the idea."

Callen silently swore, in Russian, at the damn witch's power. He had not gone looking for the sling; in fact he was pretty sure he didn't have one. And the crutch? He had stopped using that the minute Sam had left his house.

"And Mr. Callen?" she refocused his attention.

"What," he said a little sulkily, fully expecting another lecture or ultimatum.

"That was a very thoughtful gift you gave Mr. Hanna. Allowing yourself to undergo medical treatment so he could have peace of mind on his vacation."

"It was nothing," he grumbled.

"Your gift. To Sam. It was extremely generous of you and while I know it didn't cost you in a monetary sense, I know it did on a very deep and personal level." You have no idea, Callen quietly thought. He flinched when she added, "Of course, I am always here if you need to unburden your soul."

A quick glance out the window confirmed it wasn't a blue moon and hell hadn't frozen over. "It was nothing," he repeated, though he silently added and I'll do whatever it takes to keep Sam and his family safe, and ensure he can enjoy his time with them. "So I'll drive myself?" Damn, he sounded like a teenager asking permission from his parents to borrow the car. "It's a day and a half away."

"On the 25th. 1400. Not a minute later," she warned.

"I promise Hetty. And Merry Christmas," he added.

"Your salutation is a bit early, none-the-less still appreciated," she informed him.

"Maybe it is not," he replied. "Bye Hetty," and he disconnected the call.

Hetty couldn't help wondering if Callen had basically just told her he had no intentions of showing up at her house for Christmas dinner. One never really knew what Callen was up to and that unpredictability was one of the things that made him a great agent as well as a pain in the asset.

THE END

_Author's Foot-Note: BTW there might just be one more present for all good little girls and boys on the site tomorrow._


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